Neighbours

I puffed away first thing, I didn't even bother to get out of my robe. When the sloth sets in, the sloth sets in, what can I say? It was what I got from Jenny The Jehovis Witness a few days ago. She does a great trade in our neighbourhood.

“Can I introduce you to god?” Jenny the Jehovis Witness would ask

“No, thanks.”

“No? Well, how about introduce you to heaven?” She was quite cheeky with it.

“I’m sorry?”

“I have some great choof?” Jenny the Jehovis Witness would say next.

I liked her instantly.

The first thing I did was turn the coffee machine on and head outside to have a smoke on my balcony. Saying good morning to Bruno, across the road on his balcony, with him responding by lifting a finger in my direction.

I sat on the wicker chairs and rolled a j. The day went by oblivious in the street below.

I pretty much wanted a second j immediately after I had finished the first. I can't be that person again, I told myself.

I went and got my coffee. And a buttered fruit scone, which I’d made when I got up at sparrow’s fart. I used to sleep until midday easily, and I can’t really remember when it changed, but now I am up before the sun comes up.

Then, I ignored myself and rolled another j.

“Hey,” Bruno yelled out to me.

“Yeah, what?”

“You roll me a,” he did parenthesis in the air, “lovely morning?”

“Yeah, sure, but I’m not brining it over to you.”

“No problem, I’ll come and get it.”

“It’s ready.”

Then Bruno was running across the street between his house and mine in just his white Calvin’s. His hairy chest and hairy stomach, and his thick hairy thighs, not to mention his big dick bouncing around in his briefs with every dainty tip toe step he took, on full display.

I opened my front door. “I see you got dressed up for the occasion.”

“What to run from here to there, Jesus, Jeremy, you have to be kidding me.”

“You are not hiding anything, that is for sure.”

“Jesus fucken Christ I wear less on the beach.”

I handed him a couple of Js I’d rolled.

“You are a goddam gentlemen,” he said.

“Not working today?”

“Nah, the factory has laid us off, you know the Liberal Party privatisation when they said no one would lose their jobs?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Well, that didn’t account for the mostly casual work force that lost their shifts rather than their jobs, as such.”

“Conservative politicians can’t tell the truth, not unless it is for their own personal wealth, and even then…”

“Duplicitous liars, don’t you mean.”

We both laughed.

“I’m getting my own back on the conservative cunts, though.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m getting the dole instead of working, and I get mum and dads superannuation now that they are locked away in Uncle Luigi’s nursing home, La Tua Cura Homes.”

“How did you mange that?”

“It’s a family, Jeremy. Donta you worry about anythink, boy, saida Luigi. I takea good care ofa them. And the government she will pay for it.”

“Good for you, it can’t always be the rich who rip off society.”

“And the house isn’t in my name, so it doesn’t affect my payments.”

We both laughed again. Cackled might have been more the term for it. You have to love it when some of the average people win some times.

Then Bruno tip toed back across the street. I watched his big beefy arse wiggle in his white briefs with each step he took, running tip toe back across the bitumen.

Then I rolled another J for myself and I had heavy eye lids in no time sitting back in the chair gazing out into the street, sipping my coffee, being careful not to let my robe fall open and flash the world. I really should go and put track pants on, I thought, before Bruno gets an eyeful. I wondered if he could see that much from his vantage point?

Not that I really cared. Don’t look neighbours. Or look. I don't really give a toss.

“Hey Jeremy,” Bruno called out some time later, how long I couldn’t tell you.

“Yeah Bruno? What?”

“You wouldn't be fucken dead for quids, now would ya?”

“No, Bruno, I wouldn’t.”

“Life’s good.”

“Yeah, Bruno, life is good.”

Bruno talking again made me aware all over again that he was just over the way, so I stumbled back in my French Doors and pulled on a black pair of track pants and a grey hoodie. Different colours, as I’d just heard an, I did parenthesis in my head, expert, saying how men shouldn’t wear matching tops and bottoms when in track suits, the contrast is much more flattering.

I looked at myself in my full length mirror. I laughed at the vanity of it, but thought it did look better, more stylish, less daggy, less like Uncle Brian at a family BBQ telling homophobic stories to whoever would listen. I always wanted to say to him, let's talk about your emotional cruelty to Aunt Lois, but I was too young back then.

I stepped out onto the balcony feeling like a super model. Bruno wolf whistled from across the street.

“Just getting ready to face the day,” I called across the street to him.

“Very nice,” he said. Still just wearing a pair of tighty whities.

“Thanks,” I called back across the street.

“I wonder what the poor people are doing, hey Jeremy?” said Bruno.

“Living miserable fucken lives, Bruno, that’s what they are doing.”

“Ain’t that the fucken truth,” Bruno called back.

“Ain’t it,” I replied.

Bruno held a splif up in the air. “Here’s to ripping the system off so effectively to have a better fucken life.” He took a big drag on his doobie.

“Everyone should be doing it!” I dragged on the doobie of my own.

We both blew out lungsful of smoke in unison.

Then we both broke up laughing at our own cleverness.

 

Hanging Out

I shamefully decided to call Trent and Nate. Shamefully, as I hadn’t seen them since the Gold Coast trip, now, when was that, last November? And I was only dropping in, calling them, because I was hanging out for a choof.

I thought of Paddy and I thought of Chad, but that would have involved driving somewhere. Nyr? Why make things complicated?

I had been meaning to call Trent and Nate for, I don’t know how long, since November, I guess. 

And I could walk to their place. 😀

I was twiddling my fingers at home, what to do, what to do? Ah! Too much time to think. I clearly, I needed a smoke to calm myself down to enjoy doing nothing. It was as obvious as the nose on my face! Tits on a bull! Oh, no, that’s as useful as. 

They didn’t know that was the reason I was dropping over. Although, Nate would probably guess.

Trent and Nate are off to Thailand on Friday, apparently. They seem to be discovering travel, just lately. Where had they just come back from? I should pay more attention.

“We got a good deal,” said Trent. “So why not.” He shrugged and made big eyes.

“I have some growth in my ear that I think is affecting my hearing,” said Nate. “I hope the plane ride won’t worry it.” He sounded worried about it. 

“It’s a package,” said Trent. “How could we refuse.” He backhanded Nate on the arm. “You’ll be fine, Debbie Downer.”

“I’m sure it would probably turn out to be nothing. I said to Nate. You know, as you say, with absolutely no evidence.

No pot, though, that became apparent pretty quickly after I arrived. Nate was out, or Trent was making him abstain, or something. Maybe it was the ear.

“You want a Chardy,” said Trent? Of course he did. You have to just about surgically remove the wine glass from his hand now a days, and yet he forbids Nate a smoke?

I headed home, pretty quickly, I didn’t stay. No, not as soon as I realised there was nothing to smoke, no, not that soon, even though I wanted to. That would have been far too obvious. No, I chatted a bit. 

I didn’t chat too much, just enough to be polite and not have my intensions become glaringly apparent. But, my mission was done there, way before it seemed polite to leave. While I love Trent and Nate, loved living with Trent and Nate once, without the bong being offered to me every so often,[2011] as it used to be,[02/11/2025] well, as shameful as you might think this admission is, why would I be there? 

I know, what a bitch, blah, blah, blah, but the truth is sometimes harsh, they are far less interesting, let’s face it, if I am stone cold sober.

And as it turned out – do I have to admit to the possibility of a god after all – Scott arrived, soon after I got home. I hadn’t been home 10 minutes when the doorbell sounded.

“You doing anything?” asked Scott, standing on the other side of my front door when I opened it.

“No,” I said.

He handed me a larger than normal plain white envelope open at one end. “Well, roll this into something, will ya.” 

I smiled to myself, as I spied the gunger inside that envelope.

As if my self-focused, contact of old friends for ulterior motives counted for nothing, I was, actually, being rewarded with the universe providing. Lovely. It’s a pretty charmed life when I think about it. Hey?

There you have it. Ask and you shall receive, or some shit like that.

“Do you have cigarettes?” I asked.

“No,” said Scott. “I told you I quit.”

I’d quit too. So, momentarily, it was awkward.

I had to go around to the shops. The universe couldn’t have provided what is the least expensive part of the whole operation, you know, while it was at it? Go figure. Still, it was the least I could do, even if my feet were hurting from all the walking, I had already done, chasing this shit. Ha ha, all my walking.

Scott, and I, sat on the wicker chairs on the back veranda, smoking spliff after spliff, talking shit about the world.

“Life is good,” I said.

“Yeah, pretty good with me too,” said Scott.

“You wouldn’t be dead for quids, now would you.”

“No, not for a second,” said Scott. “Not for anything.”

We gazed out into the garden, out into the world.

“I went to Trent and Nate’s this arvo to bot a smoke off them.”

“Oh,” said Scott. “So, you had stated before I go here.”

“No, Nate didn’t have any.”

“Oh,” said Scott. “Fuck!”

“Fuck hey,” I said.

“Is Trent still possessive of Nate?”

“Yeah, I reckon that’s why Nate was out.”

“Why?”

“Because Trent stopped him from getting any.”

“Trent has always controlled that boy’s life.”

“I couldn’t stand it myself.”

“Nah, me either.”

Scott looked at me. I looked at him. Scott kept looking at me.

“What?”

“Arthritis?”

“What?

“Have you rolled another one?”

“No, not yet,” I said.

“Well,” said Scott. “What’s stopping you?”

“Oh, dunno,” I said. “Waiting for you to give me the nod, I guess.”

“What?” he said. Quizzical look.

“Yeah, I dunno.”

“You got somewhere else you gotta be?”

“Nah, no plans.”

“Well, go on, get rolling.”

“Your wish is my command.”

I rolled a roach.

Scott just gazed at me.

I opened my joint rolling machine and inserted the roach.

“So, there you go. If you want some sort of moral to this story, I guess it would be, um, er?” I laughed. “Get to and bot off your friends, because even if they can’t provide what you need, the universe will hear you and it will provide where others fall short.”

I poured the mix into the machine next to the roach.

Scott was still looking at me.

I pulled a paper from my rolly papers and licked it.

“Do you like that?” I said.

“A lot of yap,” said Scott.

I inserted the licked paper into the machine.

“You got that joint rolled?” asked Scott. “I’m gaggin’ over here.”

I clicked the cigarette rolling machine shut and a perfectly rolled joint popped out

“Voila,” I said. I held the freshly minted joint in the air. 

“Well, it’s no good to anyone unlit,” said Scott. “Would you care to do the honours.”

“I would care indeed,” I said.

I flicked the lighter, the white cigarette burned red at the far end. I sucked the herby tasting smoke into my lungs. I took 2 more drags then I handed it to Scott.

Scott took the joint from my fingers. “You are a prince among men,” he said. He puffed on the joint. He blew the smoke into the air. Then he turned and looked at me. “Why aren’t you rolling the next joint?”

“Oh, yes, I’m on it.”

“Idle fingers are the devil’s, um, er…” said Scott.

“Work,” I said.

“Work,” said Scott.

“I’ve always said that,” I said.

We both laughed.

Scott handed the joint back to me.

The afternoon was warm and serene.

“Why does Nate stay with Trent?”

“I don’t know? Daddy issues?”

“More like mummy issues with Trent.”

“Claws, Scott, claws.”

“Oh well, he is so controlling, he is like Nate’s mother. And he’s got fat.”

“They’ve both got fat.”

“I guess they are happy then,” said Scott.

“Or co-dependant lazy?”

“Does Trent still drink like a…”

“Fish?”

“Yeah?”

“I think so.”

“You know, it is so goddam lucky we are perfect, hey?” said Scott.

“Or we’d never be able to say the things we say.”

“Never.”

“No.”

“That would be the worst?”

“The worst.”

“Actually, living with Trent would be the worst.” Scott laughed.

“Not being able to make fun of it would be the second worst.”

We both laughed.

“Poor fucken Nate.”

“He’s got fat, you say?”

“Yep.”

“That poor fucken astonishingly handsome boy.”

“Not any more.

“Not anymore?”

“Trent offering me wine as a substitute for smoke was the worst.”

“See, you can never trust them if they fucken drink.”

“Nate has complained about that in the past.”

“And he is right to. Drunks, who can live with them, I ask you.”

I hold the next joint in the air.

“Light the fucken thing,” said Scott. “Jesus man!”

I light it, puff on it and then hold it out to Scott. “Here’s to friends,” I said.

Scott takes the joint from me. “To good friends.”

“To good friends,” I said.

“To Trent and Nate,” said Scott.

“To Trent and Nate.”

“To Trent, long may Nate sail in her.”

We both laughed.

The Blow Up Doll's boyfriend

I Quit

I quit, again, after another weekend of smoking pot.

I’m much nicer when I am stoned, ask anyone.

(Sam doesn’t like it though) So I have to give it away.

I'm a good boy, a good boy, I say. What a good boy am I.

(Here we go again, I know you are thinking, it has been a difficult few months, that is for sure)

I’m Little ciggie mourner

sitting in a corner,

eating a congratulatory pie;

I put in my thumb,

And pulled out a plum an extra 10 kilos

(I can feel it gathering around my stomach as I speak)

And say, ‘What a good boy am I.

What a good boy indeed.

I am developing the powers of Mister Fantastic, as I write my quitting smoking story, so I can reach around and pat myself on the back.

Never quit quitting because one day, you know, it is going to stick.

What's In Luke's Heart?

What do you think is in Luke’s heart?

Oh, I don’t know, let me take a look at him.

You need to look at him to guess what is in his heart?

Yes, of course, you don’t think I can just wing it on some vague idea of him?

Well, no, I guess not, I hadn’t thought about that way before.

Oh yes, of course, I’m going to have to have a look at him.

No problem, that is no problem. Take a look.

Otherwise, I might be in danger of making it up.

Making it up, you say?

Yes, imagining something that is there that isn’t there at all.

Well, no, we can’t have that, I suppose.

No, that wouldn’t be any good at all.

We need an honest response.

We need a true appraisal of what is in there.

Yes, we do.

I have some questions?

Fire away?

Is he nice to his mum? Is he kind to the people he loves? Does he at least think about the people worse off than he? Does he smile at the lonely widow who lives two doors away? Does he give some money, or time, to the poor? Does he help the young boy who has fallen down? Does he make those around him laugh? Does he help friends when they are in need? Would he go to a stranger’s aid in the street? Does he treat those who have alternative lives the way they want to be treated even though he doesn’t understand? Would he jump into a lake to save a puppy from drowning? Would he stand up for those being treated badly by a bully? Would he stand in solidarity for the underdog?  Is he gracious when he loses? Does he understand his privilege?

I Hear It Is The Latest Thing

I've seen a lot of mix race couples around lately, as much as I hate to use that particular term.

I hear it's the latest thing to be an Asian/Caucasian mixed couple.

Cutting edge love, they say.

Cutting edge.

Asian girls traditionally like Asian boys and white girls traditionally like white boys, but not so much anymore. White girls are liking Asian boys more and more and Asian girls are liking white boys. Their children are usually beautiful, the best of both races. 

Just as, pretty Asian girls are catching the eye of white boys and pretty white girls are turning Asian boys on, Asian boys are liking white boys and Asian girls are liking white girls just the same.

It is a modern world, it is a new time with choices expanding. Why deny yourself. Why? Thank the universe, we all collectively sigh in relief. Barriers are being broken down. Love is expanding. Suddenly, the world is a bigger place. Brighter too for everyone.

Aki has been doing it with Lachlan and Aki has been marvelling at Lachlan’s love making skills, as she said, but that is just Aki being shy, because what she really likes is Lachlan’s smile and his kind heart.

Kaito has been seeing Ava. She loves his handsome face and his muscular arms when he wraps them around her. “He is just so lovely, gentle and kind. He took me to meet his grandmother’s place and she cooked a feast welcoming me into the family.”

I Can’t Be Trusted

I can’t be trusted, apparently. Just because Connor’s girlfriend and I get on really well. Charlotte and I just have the same sense of humour, kind of dark. We laugh at the same things, we even wait for the other to react to funny things in the same way.

I love the way she laughs. And sure, I think she is beautiful, who wouldn’t. I love the way she just kind of gets me. I’m not sure I have met a girl who gets me in quite the same way. Oh, you know, the way I think, as I said, the things I find funny.

I’m happy Connor met her, and we get to hang out together.

Connor didn't say anything to start with, he was too busy trying to be, I guess you’d call it, understanding. I guess. Or, he just didn't notice, in the beginning, which I find hard to believe. Would I have noticed if she was mine? I don't know, I don't really care. 

I can't be trusted, I told you that.

But, truthfully, the back of my hand covering my mouth, apparently, Connor does care.

But, you know, there is nothing between Charlotte and I. I just like her.

I have lived with Connor for, now how many years is it? Five years? Since we left school. Since I went to uni. Since we got jobs.

He hates it that I call her Charlie. It just came out one day, I was a bit pissed, or something, and it just came out of my mouth. Charlotte said that was the name her dad calls her. But when Connor tried to call her Charlie, she didn’t like it, she said Connor was her boyfriend and her father’s special name just seemed wrong coming out of his mouth.

I can’t be trusted.

And I’m his friend.

Levi, our other house mate, studied fine art, and is a graphic artist, and draws a comic call Agitated. It’s got quite the cult following now a days.

I studied Journalism and now I write. Like my father does.

And Connor, he’s a mechanic, he works for a Porsche dealership. That has its perks, because Connor has a 911. 

Oh, the car thing. Connor’s shining asset when it comes to girls, the car. You see, Charlotte never liked his car. Oh, it makes a lot of noise and he drives it too fast, she said.

I drive a 2CV. My dad is an eccentric and only likes French cars. Citroens to be specific. Some Peugeots too. As long as it’s French. The 2CV was hanging around, kind of spare when I got my license and it just kind of became mine. Charlotte loves my 2CV, she thinks it is a happy car, the noise it makes, the way it goes around corners. She says my car just makes her smile.

Well, no need to add what Connor thinks about that. Charlotte likes your car? he said to me kind of incredulously.

We’ve been mates since school Connor, Levi and I. We lived through Connor meeting Charlotte. We’ve lived through Levi coming out and meeting Jimmy. And me getting calluses. Ha ha, that’s the joke ‘they’ tell about my nonexistent love life.

Connor has just taken up painting. In a kind of modern style. Levi says it because of me and Charlotte.

“Because of me? What do you mean?”

“Connor see’s Charlotte reading your short stories and other stuff you have written,” said Levi. “And to a much lesser extent, she reads Agitated. Connor is trying to find something with which he can compete. Impress her.”

“That’s a pretty long range plan, isn’t it? How long before he gets good at painting?”

“You don’t seem to realise how much you and Charlotte affect him?”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.”

“Jacob, you don’t see it.

“There is nothing between Charlotte and I, we just get on well.”

“Have you told Connor that?”

“He knows?”

“Does he?”

“Sure, he does.”

“Well, sometimes, when I watch him watching you and Charlotte, all I can see is daggers sharpening in his eyeballs.”

“Oh Levi, that’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?

“Jacob?”

“I was going to ask Charlotte to The Normans.”

“And Connor too?”

“No. He doesn’t like The Normans.”

“And you can’t see anything wrong with that?”

“Charlotte and I both love The Normans.”

“You can’t see anything wrong?”

“Why should there be?”

“Jacob?”

“Seriously?”

Levi just kind of stared back at me.

“We’re just friends.” What is Levi on about? He has a habit of playing devil’s advocate, which can be really annoying.

“It doesn’t always look as though you are.” Levi made parenthesis in the air, “just friends.”

“Oh, of course we are.”

“Even if you are,” he curled his fingers in the air, again, “just friends…”

I put my hand out and stopped the quotation marks. “Which we are…”

“You do understand that Connor has exclusive rights to Charlotte.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means Charlotte is Connor’s girlfriend and not yours.”

“I know that, Levi.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“You know what the old joke is, now don’t you?” said Levi.

“What?”

“A girl can have a male friend, sure she can, but it means she’s ugly.”

“OMG, Levi?”

“And Charlotte isn’t ugly, we can all see that.”

“Yes.”

“Well, how do you think Connor feels about you and Charlotte when he sees the two of you laughing and having those jokes that only the two of you are in on?”

“He should be pleased that his girlfriend is laughing and having a good time.”

“Seriously, Jacob?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“She is beautiful when she laughs.” And she is. Beautiful.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Oh Levi. Panic stations, panic stations...”

“I’ll admit, I am not saying this for completely unselfish reasons.”

“What?”

“I really like our living arrangements.”

“I do too.”

“I really like living with you and Connor.”

“So do I.”

“Well, then perhaps you can put some work into maintaining it, nurturing it and sustaining it.”

“What would you like me to do?”

“Think about Connor’s feelings some of the time.”

“Connor’s feelings?”

“Yes.”

“And what exactly does that mean.”

“Get your own girlfriend, Jacob. Let Charlotte be Connor’s girlfriend.”

“I really can’t believe this.”

“Just try and think about it, will you. I don’t think you have to do things completely different, just a bit of an adjustment, some tinkering around the edges.”

“Do you want to go to The Normans, Levi? I have a spare ticket.”

“Good decision. And yes, I’ll go with you.”

“So, it’s a date?”

“Was it a date with Charlotte?”

“No… um… “

“Good answer.”

“So, is it a date with you?”

“Stop messing around.”

“You don’t have to sleep with me, just because we call it a date.”

“Really, Jacob. It just makes me wonder all over again what your intensions were with Charlotte?”

“Oh, Levi? What has happened to your sense of humour.”

“It’s not funny.”

“I have no intensions towards Charlotte, that I would have if I was her brother.”

“Euw! That just makes it sound creepy.”

“We’re just friends, you just have to believe me.”