Two Cars?

I sat outside in the street and gazed at my 280E and then gazed at my 9-3. Then looked back at my 280E. I then pondered the two of them.

How long have I had the 280E? I can’t remember now, but it is a considerable length of time.

I feel sad to give it up. I decide that I am going to get the engine repaired. I don’t know how much 6 cyl Mercedes engines cost to rebuild, but I am going to do it.

Let’s get her repaired and then decide what to do with her, with both of them. You know, it isn’t realistic to get rid of the Saab when mum and dad have just handed it over to replace my aging Mercedes. But, if I get, when I get, the 280E repaired what am I going to do with two cars?

Nyr! I’ll worry about that later.

I head inside and call my mate Daniel the mechanic.

“Yeah, ello,” Daniel answered the phone.

“Daniel.”

“Josho, I haven’t heard those dulcet tones…”

“Dulcet tone, are you my grandmother?”

“No mate, it was your grandfather who taught me…”

“Euw!”

“He was a good sort you grandpop,” said Daniel.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“Oh Jesus, mate. I was banging one of the apprentices there for a while.”

“Mixing work and pleasure, hasn’t that bought you down once before?” Handsome Daniel, black hair, piecing blue eyes and a smile that charms everyone who is witness to it.

“You should see this kid in a pair of overalls, men have fallen to their knees and cried for much less.”

“So, good looking.”

“Like how.”

“And how did that work out for you?”

“Well, it was going great guns until his mother arrived in my office one morning and told me to keep my dick out of her son.”

“Ha ha, only you Daniel.”

“What 19 year old guy sends his mother down to sort out his.” Daniel laughed. “I was going to say love life, but what I was doing to him didn’t really involve much love.”

“And so…”

“Oh, the mother is a full on religious nut job, and Carl squibbed it and told her god knows what…”

“Literally.”

“She’s some Pentecostal Assemblies of Jesus Fucking Christ our Saviour Missionaries of the Holly Sea, bullshit, she started praying over me until I got security to remove her.

“So, you were done with the apprentice?”

“Yeah, I might be a sucker for a pretty face, but I’m not up for a spineless dick who sicks his Wack job mother onto me rather than face up to who he is.”

“So, has it been difficult at work?”

“That’s another thing, its totally against work policy, thou shall not dick your juniors, so best it ended.”

“And Carl?”

“Oh, he’s sniffed around a couple of times, but we’ve had a chat and we’re good.”

“You always were teflon Daniel.”

“And how are you?”

“I’m good.”

“And the beautiful Matt.”

“Yeah, he’s good too.”

“Congratulate me, Josho, I’m going to be a father.”

“What!”

“Yeah, me, a dad, what do you reckon?”

“I reckon you’re… what?”

“I’ve got a couple of lesbian mates Maryanne and Janet and they wanted to have a kid, and they asked me.”

“Jesus, handsome Daniel, no one would be surprised about that.”

“I know.”

I laughed. “You know.”

“No! I’m just pleased about it, being asked and all.”

“So, when is the big day?”

“Oh, 6 months.”

“6 months, hey,” I said. “So did you have to do it into a cup?”

“Yeah, sure to start with, but that didn’t work. We tried a few times, but no luck.”

“And?”

“Well, Maryann and I decided just to do it the old fashioned way in the end.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I know, how about that?”

“And, how did that go?”

“Well, Maryanne and I were at her place one Saturday night, and she’d got another not pregnant test. It was just me and her. Janet was away…”

“The girlfriend?”

“Yes, they don’t live together full time. Janet trains sheep dogs…”

“But, of course.”

“She’s some champion Border Collier sheep trial expert, or something.”

I laughed.

“And Maryanne was disappointed, but she was still in her ovulation cycle, so she wanted to go again, and we were looking around for a cup, or something, when Maryanne said there was probably a simpler way.”

“A simpler way?”

“And we did it right there on her bed. First dick for her.”

“And how did she take to it?”

“Well, there’s the thing, Josho, she liked it.”

“She liked it?”

“Yep, she’s been back for more.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it gets her off.”

“WHAT?

“I know, I’m converting dykes now.”

“And what does her girlfriend think about it?”

“Ah, well, she’s okay with it, as long as it doesn’t encroach on her time with Maryanne, and all that.”

“Jesus, Daniel, who’d have thought?”

“And Maryanne is the fem one. You’d think I’d go for the blokey one, but no. There is something hot about…” He laughed.

“Hot about?”

“Erm… well… making a chick cum with my dick. Who’d have thought?”

“Who’d have thought?”

“So, anyway, I’ll be expecting booties when the time comes, but what can I do for you today?”

“It’s my old Mercedes…”

“Yeah, speaking of grandmas…”

“Well, the engine has gone on it.”

“Jesus, how long have you had that car?”

“Yeah, years, I was thinking that myself.”

“And you want it fixed?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, I guess? Josho you are going to have to be way more committed than that considering how much it is going to cost you?”

“So… expensive?”

Daniel whistled into the phone. “Just buy yourself a new car.”

“Oh, I already have another car, but this one has sentimental value.”

“What’s the new car?”

“A Saab 9-3.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ve just got it.”

“Is the Mercedes still in as good condition as it was?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s probably worth fixing. Bring it down.”

“You’ll do it?”

“I’ll give it a look.”

“Okay, cool, thanks Daniel. When?”

“Well, if you have another car, just drop the Merc down any time.”

“Okay then.”

“Today, or after the 15th Jan.”

“You’ll be back then.”

“Yeah.”

“You going away?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a surfer dude I’m really looking forward to pegging down Wye, you and Matt should come down.”

“What, to help you peg the surfer dude.”

“No, I won’t need any help in that department. Come down to the beach, the weather is meant to be good.”

“Okay, I’ll see.”

“Good, I hope you do.”

“About the car?”

“Yes.”

“I might bring it over now, is that good for you?”

“Yeah, sure, bring it over, it will be nice to see both of you.”

“Okay then. See you soon.”

Daniel came sauntering out like a super model, his overalls folded down to his waste, showing him wearing a tight t-shirt.

“Howdy.”

“Look at you Mr Super model, no wonder the apprentices can’t keep their hands off you.”

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t one of my better decisions.”

“In a life time of questionable decisions.”

“What are you talking about, you are looking pretty fucken fine yourself.”

“Listen to us, our mutual admiration society.”

“What is that from?”

“Um, er The Italian Job.”

“Yes, The Italian Job,” said Daniel. “We never di race Cooper S’s across Europe, now did we?”

“It would still be lots of fun.”

“Jesus, I wish I had the time.”

“So, is the workshop keeping you busy.”

“Flat out mate, flat out.”

“But is it paying the bills?”

“Oh yeah, more than paying the bills.”

“Doing well?”

“Yep, doing well,” said Daniel. “You know that is when I don’t get stuck with old junkers that I am supposed to fic for mate’s rates.”

“So, mate’s rates for the old Merc?”

“Oh course, babe.” Daniel wrapped his arm around my neck and kissed my head. “Of course, its mate’s rates for you.”

“You’re a luv.”

“Now, let’s take a look at this old shit box.”

“You don’t have to do it now, it’s no longer an emergency.”

“Yeah, well, let’s have a lookie none the less. She still looks good, you are looking after her.”

“I have a garage, and I get her waxed once a year, but that’s all I do.”

“You see, it doesn’t really take much.”

“I guess.”

“Start her up. and open the bonnet.”

I start my old Merc up, it sounded rough. Daniel poked around under the bonnet. He reved her and reved her. 

“Okay. Shut her off.”

“What do you reckon doc, is there any hope?”

“Well first of all, Mr James, you’ll need to remove all your clothes.”

“Okay… doctor,” I said breathlessly.

“Little Shop of Horrors,” Daniel said.

We both laughed.

“So, what do you reckon?”

“Nyr.”

“That bad?”

“I’m guessing, if I know you at all, that you want matching numbers?”

“Preferable.”

“Well, it would probably easier just to get another engine, but be that as it may, I’ll strip her down in the new year…”

“Please doctor, can you warm your hands up first.”

“Don’t worry miss, the way I’m going to touch you it won’t matter.”

“Oh doctor, you take my breath away.”

“Do you remember that time we drove up from Wye in this and we were so stoned and laughing so much that we had to pull over…”

“One of the finniest days of my life.”

“It’s good to see you Josho.” Daniel rapped his arms around me. “I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you too, you old cunt.” 

Daniel and I kissed. More like friends than lovers, but more than like friends. We have history going back.

“I need to see more of you,” said Daniel.

“Yeah, I know, life gets in the way.”

“Doesn’t it.”

“Anyway, I’ll strip the engine down and assess what the damage is.”

“Sure, let me know.”

“You want a car to drive?”

“No, I’ve got another one.’

“Oh yes, Saab 9-3.”

“Yes. The cool Swede.”

“You’ll be bringing that to me soon, I guess.”

“Well, let’s get one done at a time. I know you have a soft spot for this one.”

Daniel rapped his arm around my neck “I have a soft spot for you.”

“Daniel.”

“You and me Josho, it could still be good?”

“Have you been taking drugs this morning?”

Daniel laughed. “We had fun, Josho.”

“We did, Daniel.”

“I never see enough of you.”

“I never see enough of you.”

“The three of us we should get together.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve always wanted to get to know Matt, better.”

“Really?”

“Ha ha.” Daniel slapped me on the chest. “It’s good to dream, Josho. Never stop dreaming, that’s what I say.”

“You and me were good together.”

“Ah, yes, so many years ago now, hey. Anyway, good to see you. Leave the car with me, I’ll get onto it in the next month, or so. Is that good for you?”

“That’s great for me.”

“I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Great.”

“Come to Wye River over Xmas.”

“I’ll try.”

“Bring Matt.” 

“Will do.”

“We can smoke some pot and play Uno.”

“The famous Uno battles of old, hey?”

“I can tell Matt stories about you, Josho.”

“Now you are making me nervous.”

“Oh, just the good stories.”

“That’s what I want to hear.”

“Nothing about your questionable choices.”

“He probably knows them already.”

“Nothing about your spectacular fails.”

“He probably knows less about them.”

“Ha ha, I won’t give away any of your secrets.”

I laughed and gave Daniel a hug.

Saab 9-3

Mum and dad heard the 280E start up, at Xmas and dad saw the black smoke belching out of the 280E's exhaust. (How much is a Mercedes engine rebuild?)

Apparently, a day later mum said to dad that considering she'd given me the 280E all those years ago, it was maybe time she got herself a new car and gave me her 2 year old Saab 9-3.

In between times, the last few of her cars have gone to my siblings, so she thought it was my turn.

So, yesterday, mum took delivery of her new car and her Saab 9-3 now sits in my driveway, or at least, it would if I had a driveway. 

It is out in the street behind Fiona, as though it is sniffing Fiona's arse. I feel kind of sad, when I should feel happy. I don't think I am ready to give up the 280E just yet.

Fiona

A gay friend, my lovely friend Keith, who has no idea about cars, which will become quite apparent, got into Fiona and I was about to drive him somewhere when looking incredulous, holding his hands up like everything inside the car was just too precious to touch.

He said in a new age/wondrous tone. “This is like an old Mercedes.”

I looked at him blankly and said, “It is.”

He looked wide-eyed like he didn’t understand me. He tilted his head and his eyes begged me for an explanation.

“This is like an old Mercedes… because it is.”

“What?” said Keith.

“It is an old Mercedes.”

"Oh." Keith's face broke into a smile.

It was funny.

We both laughed.

We had the same sense of humour, Keith and I.

280E Mercedes

Fiona is gold, but you get the picture, I'm sure.

280E

It looks like I'm just about up for a new car. The 280E is beginning to blow smoke and, I reckon, she's lost a bit of power.

Not the 280E... or Fiona, as Matt called her, because of her metallic gold paint work and white lambs-wool interior. Matt said she was a girl's car; she looked like a middle-aged Brighton woman, bravely hanging onto her youth with too much jewellery and too much fake tan.

Matt, said I got away with it because of my dark, wavy hair. Whatever that meant? Something about me loving the beach. Ex-non-surfie, to be truthful. Hardly, I never tried surfing. I just liked the flat, tranquil beach, early in the morning, watching for the waves. It used to clear my head, sort of put stuff in perspective. It was the one place I used to let go of all my fear. I've just got the hair, had the hair, that's what Mat meant.

My mates have often said the car is a girl's car. 

“Looks like a fucking powder-puff,” said one of my mates.

Mum was just trading it in on a new model and wasn't going to get much for it, relatively, you know what trade-ins are like, when my brother wrote off my car and they felt sorry for me being at uni with not much money. Of course, on the face of it, an aging Mercedes for a uni student wasn't, perhaps, the best choice.

But having said that, the 280E has never broken down, or let me down, for that matter. She's been a classy old bird all the years I've had her, despite what everyone around me has said at various times. Believe it or not, people, boys have been impressed by that car, over the years. It always kind of amused me, since I've always just got stick about her from everyone else, my secret weapon.

I've blown too many joints to remember, smoked crystal meth before weddings and popped pills up city alley ways at night, in that car. I've had sex, on a few occasions, in the front seat, and the back seat.

Sad to think of her gasping her last breath.

Matt just laughed when I suggested I could get a purple Monaro, at one of those moments when he was dishing Fiona. I saw one driving down the Calder, it looked slick. Matt said the idea was too laughable. I didn't expect him to react that way. I'm not sure what he meant, exactly? Something about changing my name to Spiro. Then he was talking about his ex-boyfriend's cock, some Italian mechanic named Tony who, apparently, had a salami as big as his wrist.

When I told him I meant mid-night purple, nearly black, he laughed more.

“Beaudy!” he said. Thumbs up.

Out Of My Head

I rode my bike around the Yarra. Swift. Sleek. Skimming the corners. Flying. It's the thing that keeps me sane. Wind in my hair, the burning in my calves.

Cool wind on my face and on my chest.

Faster than the wind. Just staying in front.

I ride for an hour. I try not to stop, except for little children and traffic lights just at the very end.

That last hill is a killer. I try to take it in one stride.

I love that feeling at the end, once I've dismounted onto my unsteady feet. Gasping for breath. But in a healthy, cleaned out the arteries, kind of way.

I went out drinking with Sebastian and Cam. Jessie was there. We just kind of came face to face, just like that. Noisy bar, could hardly hear each other speak.

"How are you? How are you?" we said at exactly the same time.

"You look good. You look good." Awkward freeze. 

"Nice to see you, Jake. But, I've got to go. I'm meeting someone." She smiled. She looked confident, beautiful.

"Me too," I said. I hadn't seen her for how long? Not out. Not dressed up. All our wayward nights at uni, together, flashed through my head, seeing her standing there looking gorgeous. She was the last person I had expected to see. If I said it was shocking, I’d be overstating it, but it wasn’t far off.

She did look good.

Then she was gone.

Then I couldn’t get her out of my head. Sebastian and Cam bought me drinks and told me stories and generally chatted away, you know, to try and take my mind off her. Well, I think that is why they were talking away non-stop? Maybe it was the beer? But, I couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying, not really. It had been a surprise. I kept looking around, thinking I saw her in the crowd. I kept wondering who was she meeting.

I gave it my best shot after that, you know, having a good time, you know, like you do. But, it was no good, my mind kept wandering, I just wasn’t into it after that. The night. Drinking with friends. I wanted to see who she was meeting if it was a girlfriend. I didn’t want to see her with another guy. No, I wanted to see that. No, I didn’t.

I just couldn’t relax.

I made excuses and said I had to go. Sebastian and Cam tried to talk me into staying, but it wasn’t any good. I know it should have been. You know, being out like an adult. But no, I had to go, head home, dive under the blue blanket and let it go.

I went riding to get her out of my head. The next day, when she was the first thing I thought of when I opened my eyes to the day. I just had to get away.

Do you think you can ride away from your, well, not exactly, troubles, but whatever is on your mind? Problems. Heartache. Troubles. I think you can. You know, keep peddling, and don’t stop, until all of your focus is on your burning legs, and your heavy breathing, and your mind just resets itself naturally.

Focus. Look ahead. And what is ever in your head floats away. Gone. Vanquished. And it’s good for you. For me. The sky over head was blue. I push, push, pushed until it was only the bike path that was in front of me that was in my head.

And then my mind was clear, and it was just fresh air, and the road ahead.

And then all that other stuff is bled, you know cleared away, you know where it was, the space left was free and tranquil and clear, yes clear, I wanted clear, and all that other stuff, all that other stuff, what was that other stuff? The wind in the hair, the sun on my face, feeling a sense of accomplishment pulsing in my muscles as I sped along the bike path as fast as I could and everything that was wrong was then right, and even if I do say so, was now a delight. 

What was I thinking last night? Really, what was that? The shadow of something I used to know. How easily it makes itself important like I want that. I don't want that. It is just something I used to know. A habit of which I'd unburdened myself, of which, from time to time, the muscle memory quivers and makes itself known.

Funny the things you think some time?

Jake and Jessie Split Up

Jake let it slip that his real name is Josh.

“Josh, your real name is Josh?” questioned Jessie.

“Yes,” said Jake, er, Josh.

“Why have you never told me this before?” said Jessie.

“Oh, I don’t know, I just prefer Jake.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, no big deal.”

“No big deal,” exclaimed Jessie. “What your real name is, is no big deal?” said Jessie.

“No,” said Jake.

“No!” repeated Jessie incredulously.

“I don’t know why you are getting all bent out of shape over this,” said Jake.

“Jake isn’t your real name? You are telling me this after we have been going out for years. And you don’t know why I am getting all bent out of shape, as you put it?”

“No.” Jake shrugged.

“I didn’t know your real name,” Jessie wailed.

“Jess.” Jake reached out to Jessie.

Jessie pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh, come on Jess, what’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal?”

“Yeah,” said Jake.

“What else don’t I know about you?”

“Nothing.”

“How do I know that?”

“Because I am telling you.”

“Seriously, Jake. Oh sorry, Josh.”

Jess.” Jake reaches out to her again.

“No.” Jessie holds up her hands. “I can’t be near you right now.” Jessie picked up her things and left.

“Jess,” said Jake. “You can’t be serious?”

And Jessie and Josh split up. Just like that.

Over a misunderstanding? They argued? Truth is, they had drifted apart

Drugs are not good for your sex life as a couple. Drugs take you up to greater heights, amazing heights, mindboggling highs and hot hot sex together.

The problem is, you start looking for those highs all the time. You want that mind boggling, teeth chattering fuck every time you screw, but you don’t get it, of course you don’t, and sex can seem a bit dull after that. Ho hum. And you become friends, and there is nothing wrong with being friends, in fact, it is so much better in so many ways, but it doesn’t feel like it once you have had nirvana. 

It makes it all feel like, what is the point really. I want that, with you, but I’m not getting it and, well, um, what can you do.

Well, that’s what forlorn Jake would tell anyone who would listen.

Jake and Jessie used to party with us, they were a part of our dance party group.

Cam and Sebastian, Matt and I, Andy and Frankie, and Jake and Jessie we all used to party together. Cam and Sebastian were bros, straight bros, they were always together, best mates. They used to pick up girls at gay dance parties. Andy and Frankie had been together longer and they were the ones who introduced us to the whole drug thing. Jake and Jessie had been going out for 4 years, perhaps. And there was Matt & me.

We felt sorry for Jake, he was really devastated when Jess dumped him, over what he thought was nothing. His real name.

Jessie and Jake really took to E’s and dancing like the rest of us. Jessie especially. She used to work Jake over something fierce the day after we’d all been out dancing. I mean, Jake was into it, don’t get me wrong. The two of them were hot together. And then suddenly they weren’t.

Jake was devastated.

 

Gorgeous

I slept with twins once, Caleb and Callum, they were nice boys.

Identical they are, only their mother can tell them apart.

There was certainly a sense of deja vu about the whole thing,

as I am guessing you can well imagine.

We were a 'thing' there for a time, the three of us,

but only for a short time, it's not really socially acceptable,

you know, brothers and all. But it was fun while it lasted.

And they were truely twins in every sense of the word,

you know, just in case you were wondering.

Nice guys, uninhibited, as I assume you have guessed.

And the best thing was that I was the centre of attention,

which I didn't mind, not one little bit.

I miss them, they were lovely. Full of puppy energy, 

20 something year olds, the three of us. 

There was no stopping us once we got going.

Remember those days? Blush. Those boys were fun.

It was a fantasy, in the middle of which I suddenly found myself.

I remember thinking at one dance party once, when all of our E's were kicking in, and Caleb took one hand, and Callum took the other hand, and they led me onto the hot and sweaty, heaving dance floor, how the hell did I end up in this? I mean, I liked it, and all, it was far too much fun, and there I was, with two identical guys who only had eyes for me. (behind my hand whispering) and each other. Kind of. With encouragement.

It was? I mean? Hard to put into words. It was, I imagine, what it would feel like to be picked up by a tornado, spun around and then deposited back down some place, still spinning. It really was.

We went to dance parties in our undies. We drove down to Wye River for the weekends. We flew to Sydney for Mardi Gras. We went drinking at the pub and played pool until late. We went on picnics. We went to carnival. We bought puppies. We holidayed on the Greek Islands and hung out naked on the beaches. We videoed ourselves doing it.

Guys admired us. Wanted to be us. Asked endless questions about how it worked. Of course, there were people who didn’t approve, of course there were. Some people were even hostile, but they were in the minority and we just avoided those types as best we could.

I could even tell them apart in the end. Callum had a certain spark in his eye. Callum’s smile was different.

It was the best 3 years of my life.

Just Horsing Around, You Know, Like Boys Do

I knew the Phillips boys down at Wye River. Harry and Joe. Harry was 2 minutes older. Or was that Joe who was 2 minutes older? I’m not sure now. They were always arguing about which one was the older, it was their stick, so how could anyone else be sure.

They were a couple of bleach blond surfer boys if ever there were. They were really good surfers. In their black wetsuits and with wet hair it was impossible to tell them apart.

Harry was described as the psychopath, and Joe as the quiet one, by their mother. That’s how their mother described them. Even if Joe wasn't all that much quieter than Harry, it was a matter of degree.

They would end up wrestling each other on the sand, as they would run, or surf. They were very physical with each other. They were always horsing about.

They were kind of my first introduction to the twin thing, certainly the adult guy twin thing. I went to primary school with girl twins who no one could tell apart, even their father allegedly.

I found Harry and Joe fascinating. They were identical, really like the same person, and I just loved watching the two of them. It is kind of mind boggling, in a sense. You know, like motion sickness, that your eyes are telling you something different to what your brain is telling you.

I used to spend summers down at Wye. Mum and dad had a beach house down there, oh, they still do, actually. Funny how when you have an adult life you speak about things of your parents in the past tense, even if they still have those things.

One of my favourite moments in life was a sun shower on the beach at Wye, where it was hot and sunny and it suddenly poured with rain, and the shafts of bright sunlight shone through the rain. I will always remember that day as something magical.

Cowboy

Cowboy says: OMG – we haven't caught up forever! How are you, Blake?

Blake says: I'm good. You?

Cowboy says: great thanks. Starting to feel quite at home in Melbourne now.

Cowboy says: is it time we caught up for another bottle of red?

Blake says: Melbourne’s the place in which to feel at home

Cowboy says: yep – so many bice men out there...

Blake says: Nice bi men?

Cowboy says: *nice

Blake says: yes. but bi?

Cowboy says: not bice :) Ha ha.

Blake says: just nice men?

Cowboy says: that is what I am saying.

Blake says: How about tonight? I’ve got a couple of bottles of red.

Cowboy says: Cool. See you soon.

Blake: Looking forward to it.

Blake: We’ll get out of it and drunk fuck.

Cowboy: I can’t wait. Taking my undies off as I type.

Blake: You know that will get me there.

Cowboy: Come over then, you know where I live.

Blake: Do you want me to bring anything?

Cowboy: No, just your handsome self.

Blake: Easy, I got that to go.

Cowboy: Okay. I’ve missed you.

Blake: You didn’t have to miss me.

Cowboy: see you soon.

Matty Matt

Matt left this note pinned to my front door when I got home.

Dream a little Dream of me...

say night night and

kiss me.

But in your dreams – whatever they be...

dream a

little dream

of

me.

He drew stars and a sun and her lips red and full. I wanted to kiss them, as I slid the key in the lock, I suddenly felt frivolous and giddy. I suddenly felt light on my feet, as though the pure fresh air had lifted me up, joyously. I suddenly felt warm and tingly.

Into the shadows of the house, no lights on, no one to say welcome home babe, no one to smile and take me in their arms.

I felt that chill of strength, when you are on your own, but you feel perfectly at ease.

I felt strong, wings of steel. Nothing could hurt me. Nothing could trouble me now.

I felt adored.

Done Anything Xiting Lately?

Cowboy says: hi Blake

Cowboy says: don’t pretend like ur not there

Cowboy says: i know ur there

Cowboy says: if u were bussy u wud sign out

Cowboy says: yer thats rite

Cowboy says: not just say u were away

Cowboy says: dnt they teach u that in uni???

Cowboy says: uve got a lot 2 learn

Cowboy says: child

I wandered back from the kitchen where I’d just made myself avocado and vegemite and cheese toast, a cup of tea and had poured myself a glass of red wine.

Cowboy says: oi

Blake says: I'm not even signed into msn?

Cowboy says: lol well im talkin 2 u so u must be

Blake says: don't know how that works?

Cowboy says: haha freaky deaky

Blake says: sure is

Blake says: weird, huh

Cowboy says: yer i reckon

Cowboy says: bloody msn

Cowboy says: 😊

Blake says: how r u?

Cowboy says: alrite..... burnt and tired u?

Blake says: you've been out in the sun?

Cowboy says: yer went 2 the pool and then went 2 the beach

Cowboy says: tiring day

Blake says: I'm tired from doing nothing

Cowboy says: lol is that wat u did 2day

Blake says: watched a movie, watched TV, slept.

Cowboy says: orrite wat movie didja watch?

Blake says: a Spanish one called... Y tu mamá también, about couples cheating on each other.

Cowboy says: lol... not spanglish??

Blake says: nah... where the boys in the relationship eventually get it on…

Cowboy says: ohk

Cowboy says: done anything xiting lately?

Blake says: nah

Blake says: life's boring

Blake says: done nothing

Cowboy says: lol wat bout ur friends? r they boring?

Blake says: yep

Cowboy says: lol ohk

Blake says: they all went out last night without me... and then emailed me today to tell me what a good time they had. What's that about?

Cowboy says: lol oh not very nice

Cowboy says: what’s that about?

Blake says: they didn't mean it in a bad way...

Cowboy says: they didn't mean it in a bad way?

Blake says: no.

Cowboy says: how did they mean it then?

2006

Blake says: Oh, you know, people just think about themselves, self focussed, and they just don’t think about the other person. Just don’t expect it from mates.

Cowboy says: Poor Blake

Blake says: Ha ha, I wasn’t trying for my own pity party.

Cowboy says: Sounds to me like u were

Blake says: Ah no, I’m just good on my own and I’m just not as needy as other people and this is sometimes what happens.

Cowboy says: Big strong Blake.

Blake says: It has its good side and its bad side.

Cowboy says: And what r they?

Blake says: Sometimes it’s nice just not to be bothered, and sometimes it isn’t nice to be forgotten. There is strength in both positions

Cowboy says: wise words.

Blake says: yeah, that's me full of strength and wisdom.

Cowboy says: that’s why I like chatting to u 😀

Blake says: Ha ha

Being Gay

Estimates of the incidence of homosexuality vary considerably with the definition of what homosexuality actually is. Some consider its most important aspect to be sexual behaviour between members of the same sex, while others stress inclination or orientation. The definitions can be described as same-sex sexual activity, same-sex sexual inclination, and same-sex sexual identity. These may be further broken down as sexual behaviour that may occur among persons of the same sex who do not identify as homosexual. Individuals who identify as same-sex loving are not always sexually active, although they normally are, whether due to necessity, circumstances, or personal choice. A person may have same-sex sexual thoughts or inclinations without ever acting on them, or regarding themselves as having a same-sex sexual orientation. But generally, it must be said, that is is sexual behaviour that is the defining aspect.

Once same-sex desire or behaviour has been singled out for attention, and especially negative attention, the question naturally arises: What makes people same-sex attracted? For many years the common assumption, shared by many scientists and actively encouraged by religious communities, was that the “normal” human sexual orientation is exclusively for the opposite sex. Sexual studies carried out during, and after, the mid twentieth century led psychologists and doctors to recognise homosexuality as a legitimate orientation of its own. Since then similar acceptance has grown for non-exclusive orientations, such as bisexuality.

The general understanding, by some scientists, is that rather than a single cause being involved, there is instead a combination of factors that act to determine each individuals sexual orientation – as with any human emotion. Nurture, nature, or some combination of the two are often thought to determine human sexual behaviour.

Other schools of thought say that they don't know what the reason is. While other experts say what does it matter. Do we have great scientific study into what causes heterosexuality?

The causes of sexual orientation have been the subject of much discussion and research, with little conclusive evidence. Usually, research on sexual orientation has been focused on the reasons for homosexuality, obviously because the world tends to view itself as straight.

The experience of those who identify as gay, suggests that sexual orientation is set in early childhood and maybe in some individuals set even earlier.

In surveys of gay men and lesbians, the majority assert that they were born gay. Most report that they knew they were "different from the other boys and girls" from an early age, often by puberty and not uncommonly before. This kind of anecdotal evidence is considered by many to be strongly indicative of the likelihood that orientation is not a choice. Instances of individuals stating that they chose to be gay are extremely rare to nonexistent.

Many gay men and lesbians, after they have “come out” to their family, friends and the world in general report in surveys that they would not want to change their sexual orientation.

Some people, primarily Christians, but conservatives too, advocate the view that people's sexual orientation follows from their behaviour. That is, if they try homosexual acts, they might like them and thereby acquire a same-sex-attracted orientation. Many gay people would counter this argument by saying “if only it was that simple.” In fact, some also believe that a heterosexual orientation is formed in the same way, and that the only genetic element is in the basic underlying sexual desire.

Of course, there is strong evidence that “religious types” would say whatever it takes to uphold their particular religious views.

Some people who identify as “straight” may have occasional interest in members of their own sex. Likewise, many people who identify as “gay”, or who might prefer same sex activities or relationships, have engaged in heterosexual activities or even have long-term heterosexual relationships. Such heterosexual behaviour by people who otherwise show same sex attraction has often been part of concealing one's same sex orientation. This is probably becoming less common as acceptance of same sex attraction increases.

Sexual activity with a person of the same sex, does not necessarily demonstrate same sex orientation, but is considered same-sex-attracted behaviour. Not all who are attracted to, or have sexual relationships with members of the same sex, identify themselves as same-sex-attracted or even bisexual. Some people frequently have sex with members of the same sex yet still see themselves as heterosexual. It is important therefore to distinguish between same-sex-attracted behaviour, same-sex attraction, and same-sex-attracted identity, which need not be the same thing. For example, people in prison, the military, the clergy, or other sex-segregated environments may engage in situational same-sex behaviour despite being opposite-sex orientated outside these environments. In addition, some people engage in same-sex behaviours for reasons other than desire. Examples are male prostitutes who earn money by having sex with other men. While some male prostitutes are homosexual, a significant number are not.

Various forms of same-sex sexual activity is prohibited under law in many countries. Usually, though not always, such laws are termed sodomy laws, but also include issues such as age of consent laws, "decency" laws, and so forth. Laws prohibiting same-sex sexuality have varied widely throughout history, varying by culture, religious and social taboos and customs, etc. Often such laws are targeted or applied differently based on gender as well. For example, laws against same-sex sexual behaviour in England during the reign of Queen Victoria, sodomy or buggery laws were aimed specifically at male same-sex sexual activity and did not target or even address female same-sex sexual activity.

Historically

Many early civilisations, such as those of ancient Greece and Rome, accepted same-sex behaviour as normal. In general, they did not make a distinction between homosexuality and heterosexuality as orientations. Homosexual and heterosexual responses were considered to both be natural and normal feelings that manifest to a greater, or lesser, degree in different individuals.

Ancient Greece gives us the earliest western documents concerning same sex relationships. In ancient Greece, same-sex relationships were a societal norm. Certainly, these relationships did not replace marriage between man and woman, but occurred before and beside it.

There is a long history of same-sex marriages in the western world. Many early western societies tolerated it. Surprisingly, they even celebrated same sex relationships. There are some evidence of same-sex marriages in ancient Rome. They can also be traced in ancient Greece, and even in medieval Europe. There are also some other evidences of Same-sex unions among Native Americans and Africans.

For example, the Emperor Nero is reported to have married, at different times, two other men in wedding ceremonies. Other Roman Emperors are reported to have done the same thing.

The increasing influence of Christianity, which promoted marriage for procreative purposes, is linked with the increasing intolerance of homosexuality in Rome.

The Greek civilisation considered it quite normal for young men to have older male mentors with whom sexual interaction was common.

In Europe during Hellenic times, the relationships between Greek men and youths who had come of age were analogous to marriage in several aspects. The age of the youth was similar to the age at which women married – the mid-teen – and the relationship could only be undertaken with the consent of the father. This consent, just as in the case of a daughter's marriage, was contingent on the suitor's social standing. The relationship, just like a marriage, consisted of very specific social and religious responsibilities, and also had an erotic component.

Similar examples can be found in Rome too, with well known "writings," in which a common acceptance of younger male, older male sexual activity is described. There was no serious debate about the causes of sexual orientation, because generally people were free to follow their personal inclinations.

There is much evidence that shows that same sex sexual desire has been recorded from ancient times in the east. This desire is the reason behind same-sex unions, usually between men. It often included some difference in age. Information on relationships among women in ancient times is very rare, may be because women were not afforded equal status with men, so that, while men were free to pursue sexual and romantic pleasure both within and without marriage, women often were not.

Male love was encouraged in China, especially in the southern province of Fujian. Men would even marry youths in elaborate ceremonies. The marriages were long lasting. At the end of this marriage the elder partner would help the younger find a wife so that he can settle down to raise a family.

Is there any examples of homosexual relationships in the history? Of course there are! But, the sexual orientation of pre-modern figures is a topic of intense controversy. It may be accepted, for example, that the sex lives of historical figures such as Alexander the Great, Plato, Hadrian, Virgil, Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo and Christopher Marlowe included or were centred upon relationships with people of their own gender. Terms such as homosexual or bisexual might be applied to them in that sense. But many regard this as risking the anachronistic introduction of a modern social construction of sexuality that is foreign to their times. For example, their societies might have focused upon the sexual role one took in these encounters, namely active, passive, both, or neither, as a key social marker. This particular system of designation is currently the norm in many areas of Latin America.

Some historians have claimed that same-sex marriage has been documented in many societies that were not subject to Christian influence. In North American, among the Native American societies, it has taken the form of two-spirit-type relationships, in which some members of the tribe elect to take on female gender with all its responsibilities.

They are prized as wives by the other men in the tribe, who enter into formal marriages with these two-spirit men.

In Africa, among the Azande of the Congo, men would marry youths for whom they had to pay a bride-price to the father. These marriages likewise were understood to be of a temporary nature.

The Hebrew Old Testament clearly indicates that King David had a sexual relationship with Jonathan, the son of King Saul. Much to the embarrassment of the Vatican, the Catholic theologian Boswell has uncovered proof that, up until the fourteenth century, the church was routinely performing wedding ceremonies for same-sex couples. King James, who ordered the English translation of the Bible which bears his name, was a homosexual, a fact of which the translators were well aware. This fact displeased them, but since he was the king, they could not express their displeasure openly. Although on the surface, they were careful to be certain that their translation flattered and pleased the king, they also used it to attack him in a way he could not fight.

Taught To...

We are taught to hate, but not to love. Children don’t hate, children aren’t racist, they learn it from adults.

We are taught to be ashamed of ourselves and our bodies, we are never taught to appreciate the innate beauty that each of us has in simply being alive. 

We are taught not to celebrate our differences, but to use them against one another. We are taught to fear and condemn and not to trust those who are different to us.

I read recently that something like 95% of women don't like their bodies. Do you think this will be transferred to the children? Do you think this is a good source of where our newly found prudishness comes from?

Women don’t like their bodies? How can they not help but to put that onto their children? I'm not really talking about the smart, switched on, educated women, but there are plenty who aren't that.

Conservative politics, religion, advertising, education, or lack there of, all have a lot to answer for.

Religion teaches us to only look to it for answers, don’t look inside, don’t think, believe what the religion tells you.

Advertising is not all that dissimilar to religion, look to it to have your needs met and your desires achieved.

We’re all terrible people, but religion and advertising will deliver you to the promised land.

Conservatives don’t want too many people educated because where might that lead? Too many people thinking for themselves to see that the conservative POV is not sustainable. Believe in god, look to the past for direction, just say no to any of those new fangled ideas.

Don’t go rocking the boat. What we have is precious, we need to protect and look after it.

And don’t go bringing in any of those people who aren’t ‘us’ from other places, because they will change who we are and we don’t want that. How on earth would we cope with all of that? It will change us. And nobody wants that.

It must be very sad being a frightened conservative who doesn’t want change.

“Oh yes, all that radical thinking, it is what is bringing down as a society.”

“Can you tell me what this radical thinking is that you speak of?”

“Anti marriage. Abortion. All this hippy nonsense. Free love, getting with whoever you want. Turning away from god. All of that.”

“Marriage has been so successful for people.”

“It is the only way society can function.”

“With a 50 % failure rate.”

“People give up so easily.”

“Marriage is a failed institution.”

“It is the bedrock…”

“To keeping women under control and the patriarchy in charge.”

“I can’t talk to you.”

“Funny that is what nearly every conservative says when they are confronted about their ideas, or lack thereof.”

“You people don’t speak sense.”

“There was a study done in America and their conclusion to the drop in the crime rate was the success of Roe vs Wade.”

“There are 65000 abortions in Australia, that is a scandal.”

“And what do you propose to do with those 65000 unwanted children?”

“Find good homes for them.”

“Every year, 65000 unwanted babies relentlessly needing homes, do you think you can find all those homes…”

“Yes.”

“On an ongoing basis, year after year after year after year.”

“There are desperate couples wanting a child.”

“Every year, never stopping, more and more and more unwanted babies, never stopping, that you have to find homes for.”

“I can’t talk to you.”

“That is the situation for which you have to find an alternative.”

“Just because it is difficult, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try?

“I guess you don’t want to see people around here who don’t look like you?”

“Who does?”

“Who does, you say?”

“Yes.”

The 7 Signs of Man

Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Anger, Envy, Pride…

Who are we kidding? Sins? That’s who we are, through and through. That's what makes us human.

I can see them all with our straw-coloured hair boy Jason in his fotty – oops, ha ha, it is only frotty shorts when he is lying face down on his bed, rubbing his crotch into the bed clothes thinking about buddy James’ big cock in the shower after his western suburbs footy practise – footy shorts, the ones he's had since year 12 and which are now straining a bit at the seams.

Lust... he's got half a woody.

Gluttony... he's eaten way too many fish and chips and the top button is undone and the elastic band of his undies is visible.

Greed... he's running bare foot down the street towards home with armfuls of food bags, his arse looking even more pert than usual as he runs into the distance.

Sloth... laying on the couch comatose, his legs spread, akimbo, for the world to see.

Anger... every muscle in his bare torso taught, his waist narrow, his undies showing above his shorts, as he rages against the world.

Envy... his hand down the front of his shorts rubbing his hardon wantonly as he gazes off into the distance.

Pride... walking back up from a dip in the ocean, his wet shorts hugging all of his manly lumps in his shorts, leaving very little to the imagination. When that fat slug bounces around because he's taken his undies off for the swim as the wet elastic chaffs around his balls and across his arse.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” he says with a smile.

“Jason, go and put some underwear on before your Aunt Jilly sees you and makes a comment.”

“I don’t care if Aunt Jilly makes a smart arsed comment about my todger.”

“Well, I do, Jason. Go and get changed.”

“Oh, Jesus fuck.”

“All the girls will be here soon and none of them want to see that.”

“How do you know? Ha, mum?”

“I know.”

“I’ll have you know there has been a few girls who have been very interested in seeing it.”

“Maybe that is so, sweet heart, but none of your sisters, or your cousins do, let me assure you, so go and get changed before they get here. There’s a good boy.”

Jason grumbles.

“And then come and help me, I have things I want you to do.”

I'm Shagged... Literally

I had the house to myself.

Matt and I took drugs and screwed all weekend. Glass pipe packed every hour. Sitting up in the middle of the bed, the doona draped around each of us like swathes of material from a high fashion film shoot.

I'm shagged... literally. We both have sore dicks. Covered in muck, sticky to the touch. Sweating and sighing, exhausted.

Matt played sheep. I played drover.

Matt played catcher. I played pitcher.

Matt's arse can take it longer than I can give it, ain’t that the truth. He likes it face down and on his knees the best. Although I put in a few hours, so I think that is pretty respectable, um, er, delivery, and he was happy with that.

Then we both suck on the glass pipe again. Ah, that acrid smoke, I love it. Matt loves it. You can crave just the taste.

Then we can both lay there pulling ourselves for hours watching porn from the internet, in a second round, also the truth. Glass pipes being what they are. 

True of all boys, really.

And by then it is taboo porn, brother on brother, father and son… you can find any sort of deviation on the interwebs.

We’re making up stories, I can run an alternative narrative on any porn, that is what I do, after all. I’m quite the chatterer, as we lay there in the semi dark, towels all around, the sheets drenched with sweat and other fluids. The panel heater pulled into the room and set on high until we both feel we are going to expire.

We’re in our own cocoon, the outside world ceases to exist, and the hours just disappear. What day is it? How long have we been…? I have no idea. It is no longer clear. I love that. I love the drugged-out tear in the space time continuum, that is the best. Life as you know it, no longer exists. Nirvana by pipe. It is fantastically great.

(no wonder it takes the dumb people down. You have to be smart to make it out the other side)

Can You Hear It

Can you hear it? 

Are you sure? 

Listen closer? 

What can you hear if you really concentrate? 

What?

That sound.

What sound?

The sound just then?

I heard nothing.

That's because you are busy talking.

Well, how rude.

To hear, you've got to listen.

Are you saying I don't know when to shut up? Is that what you are saying? That I talk a lot? Is that what you are saying to me...

Yes.

But don't worry, you are not the only one.

The whole world, really, the whole world...

So may of us are only really interested in what they have to say.

Funeral

My mum went to the funeral of the young son of a friend. He died in a car accident. (Word is he was pissed) He'd been a great football player, a handsome, sporty guy. The apple of his mother’s eye. 

The priest said that we could all take great comfort in the knowledge that he's kicking the football around in heaven for all eternity.

“I thought they were all nuts when they said Amen,” said Mum. “Dust. The kid’s dust. That’s just life. What kind of comfort is it giving that kind of cruel, false hope?”

“It's all right mum, because daddies in heaven now,” I said. Mum knew I was talking about my father, her husband. (Surely, I don’t need to tell you that that was sarcasm?)

She laughed. “He was a good man, you father.” She tousled my hair. “He’d think they were all nuts, too.”

“Your husband for 50 years,” I said.

“Yes, 50 years,” she repeated. “It was just like it was yesterday that we were getting married.”

“Do you miss him?” I asked.

“Every minute of every day,” she said. She looked off into the distance, like her life was running through before her eyes.

“I miss him too,” I said.

“I could have done with another 50 years,” she said. “The first 50 just wasn’t long enough.” Her eyes turned just a little glassy, as she gazed out the back window.

She looked back at me and smiled. Wide eyes momentarily. “Come on, let’s get lunch ready, it’s not going to prepare itself.”

Lunch

There is a guy who is a waiter at the cafe where I eat lunch, with short hair and a baby face. He wears an apron tied around his waist. He wears his black pants so low on his hips that they only barely cover half his arse. With his white shirt tucked into his low hung pants, the soft white cotton covers the top of his cheeks, clinging like Lycra, like arse cleavage. 

I’m not complaining, such things don’t bother me. I imagine it might bother some people, people with kids, of course, old people who have forgotten life, too old to remember biting into a ripe peach when the juice runs down over your chin.

“What would you like?” he asks.

“Shouldn’t that be ‘are you ready to order’?” I reply. I’m not sure why I was antagonistic.

“Sure, if you like,” he says.

“Well, go on, say it,” I say. I know why I was being antagonistic, I was a bit pissed.

I can hear him breath in. I watch his surprising taught chest expand. “Are you ready to order? Sir?”

“Because, I know what I’d like?”

“Well, that’s a good start. What can I get you?”

“I am pretty sure it’s not on the menu?”

“I’m not following?”

“That is a shame.”

“Because I can only help you with things that are, actually, on the menu?”

“Are you sure about that?”

He pulled his eye brows into a furrow. “I’m… pretty sure.”

“Because I would dispute that…”

“Would you?”

“Yes, if there was anyone who could help me to what I’d really like, it would be you.”

He tilted his head and squinted his eye, his expression said I have no idea what you are talking about, which was a great shame. If I was really honest, his expression also said, I wish this guy would get on with it, I have other customers to get to.

I had a brunch meeting with Cinnamon and we’d ordered pastries and wine and Cinnamon and I had ordered a bottle because it was cheaper than by the glass and, of course, we’d drunk the bottle, you know because it was there. We’d already done the work we needed to do and we’d got onto the younger generation and how they thought they knew everything, unquestioningly, and how annoying that was. We both just wanted to do their heads in, you know, just once.

Cinnamon wanted to take the guys and put them over her knee. “Oh, I’d like to…” She swept her hand through the air.

I wanted to baffle them with words so much so they’d realise for themselves they didn’t know everything.

“No, it has to be physical,” Cinnamon said. “Skin on skin.” She looked far more excited than she should have been.

“No, it has to be cerebral, it’s the only way you can get them to change.”

My waiter cleared his throat.

I came back into the moment and found myself staring directly at his trousers, my gaze had wandered as my mind thought of the earlier meeting in the day.

I instantly raised my eyes up to his, just as he self consciously shuffled from one foot to the other. He was blushing just a little, so maybe he had some idea to what I was drawing attention.

“Oh, I… I’ll have coffee, thanks,” I said.

“Coffee is on the menu.”

“Yes, of course,” I said. I smiled as if I didn't know what he meant.

He held my gaze. I assume he was waiting for my special order.

I smiled and tilted my head. I wondered if he was putting himself through uni?

“Coffee?” he repeated.

“Yes,” I said. “Coffee.” I was light and breezy personified.

He furrowed his brows as if in question? He turned and walked away, and there it was, the arse cleavage walking away.

Sign of the Times

Don't you hate it when people use all of your margarine and replace it with that light shit, because they think it is better for you? (I am talking about housemates here, of course)

2023 - margarine? Really? I have used butter for years. Ever since Dante showed me his blue porcelain butter dish in which he used to keep his butter in the cupboard. Genius, I thought. Butter doesn't have to be kept hard in the fridge. I think I changed over immediately. More than I can say for poor old Dante, nothing kept him fresh. After a series of strokes, he ended up living in govt housing on health benefits in a less than desirable suburb. Poor Dante. He never really made it in life, which turned out to be a series of disasters, really that is the best any of us can say now.

So many people in this world are so unaware. Unaware of anything outside their own circle. They don’t know, or don’t care, how other people live in this world.

I often find those who don't travel to be the worst

Practically, 100% of the population said that immigrants should uphold Australian values, like bloody parrots, (parroting the conservative govt who are saying it to appeal to those very people. It is a circular argument made solely to get votes) How many of them could list what those values are? (What are Australian values?)

It's funny how racism raises its ugly head in Australia, now that it is Howard Government policy. (You could be excused for thinking racism is an Australian value thanks to Little Johnny Howard and how he has vilified certain, shall we say, non-Christian races) Stop the boats! Man the borders! Fortress Australia! Stop – the most vulnerable people on the planet – refugees!

And people just accept it.

So many sheep, so few drovers. (The gay boys lament, right there. Ha ha)

Half the population could die and truthfully the other half of the population would clap. We've not evolved.

Have you noticed that people will just walk in front of you in the street, now, only focussed on what their want to achieve?

So many people are so self-focussed. (Of course, I blame conservative politicians)

Conservative politicians have used to policies of division for so long to get ahead, really cleverly blaming the other side of those tactics all along.

Winter

I don't know why, but the winter does me in. Everything shrinks, I mean everything, the days, the light, my will to live, everything. I think it has something to do with the dark, actually, too many bad mushroom impersonations. Ha ha! It just makes me want to do like a bear and hibernate, slip away to somewhere warm and comfortable and quiet. (I should buy some salmon)

Shorter days, shorter life, or, at least, less will to live, less inclined to move.

Open fires. Blankets on the couch. Big woolly socks. Mugs of chocolate. Wrapped up for the night. Eating what you like. Fuck it, we won’t be in skimpy clothes for 6 months.

Of course, it makes Spring glorious, like a perpetual new day and something to look forward to.

The sun comes out again and we all cheer! Cheer up.

We pull on those little shorts and we begin to run, run off the stodginess of our winter respite? Fight? Plight? Uptight? Of course, it makes no sense as running in little shorts in Winter is just the way to run for life. 

Of course, we go shirtless as the days warm up. When the buds are on the trees. And the sky is blue for everyone to see.

Winter is melancholy. Winter is quiet. Slow. Down tools and go home. Inside, out of view. Home for the months it takes for light to seep back into our worlds.

Head lights on early. Street lights burning bright. All that dark outside in the street, foggy windows you have to wipe away. Breath out visibly in front of you early in the day. Cold hands and cold feet that never seem to go away.

“Don’t you hate winter?”

“No, not really, if you mean the cold?”

“Yes, the cold.”

“No, I like winter, except for the dark.”

“The cold makes me shiver to my bones.”

“Rug up, you will be okay.”

“It is Siberia, the cold feeling never goes away.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

“I guess you crank up the heat your house too.”

“If you mean that I have the heater on in the winter, then yes.”

“Do you ever feel the change in temperatures?”

“No, why would I want to?’

“Because that is the natural world, that is how the seasons of the planet are.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to feel them.”

“So, what, 21 degrees all the time.”

“If I can manage it.”

“Never a variation on that?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“You never get to feel the glorious difference in the seasons?”

“I think the glorious difference is overrated.”

“You don’t like difference?”

“No.”

“You don’t like change?”

“No.”

“You like things to be the same?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t like variation?”

“No.”

“So, you don’t like things you can’t control?”

“I guess.”

“You don’t like feeling out of control?”

“Who does?”

“But that doesn’t usually include the weather?”

“Why not, if I can control it?”

“How is your relationship with your wife?”

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“What do you think your wife would say, if I asked her?”

“I don’t know.”

Saturday Morning

I met Carlo at the bakery, he is running errands for his mum. I want sweet focaccias, my normal Saturday morning fare, they only have date scones. Well, that was the next thing I fancied.

What?

I exit the shop with the brown paper bag in my hand feeling just the lightest bit disappointed. Carlo is just coming in. He follows me home, saying something about not having seen me around. We smoke half a joint, which I have in the ashtray in the kitchen, ready for after my orange and walnut focaccia. I put brewed coffee on, as Carlo goes cross-eyed. He does a little dance, right there on the tiled floor. He's an eager puppy. He says it is his happy dance. The boy loves pot, it's good to see.

He's beautiful. He's got the sexiest legs, on him, in his tight shorts. He's a hairy Italian boy who just oozes sex appeal.

Ah! Ah! Ah! He gulps for breath. On his tip-toes. He kicks. Up against the granite. AAAhhhhhhhhhh! His stomach clenches. Ahhhhhhhhhhh! He crunches his arms in front of himself, as he pirouettes on one toe. Dark olive skin. Black hair. Ah! Muscles in a tank top. His lips glistens pink. Green eyes. Ahhhhhh! He kicks again with the same power of the first. Thick legs. Hairy stomach. He's stroking the air above him, almost Bollywood. He's gaining his breath. Ahhhh! He spins. He stops, arms out. An eighteen year old smile, unblemished skin, other than the beads of sweat on his stubbly top lip.

He sits back against the kitchen bench. He smiles.

"Wanna go again?" he says. Big grin, white teeth. That wog boy voice, husky, cheeky. He holds his hand out. "Here, I'll show you."

Sometimes, I just want to eat him like a sweet focaccia.

I put coffee down in front of him.

“Do you want milk?”

“No.” He pulls a face.

“Do you want sugar?”

“Of course.”

“I forget that.” I get the sugar bowl and a spoon. “It always seems the wrong way around?”

“What does?” asks Carlo. He slides the teaspoon into the raw sugar and drags a heaped spoonful out and stirs it into his coffee.

“You guys…”

“You mean the wogs?”

“Yes. You like sugary black coffee. And I always imagine you’d put some milk into your coffee.”

“Nah.” He slides the spoon back into the sugar bowl extracting a second heaped spoonful of sugar. “Sugar.” He stirs the second spoon of sugar into his coffee. “Not milk.”

“But, milk just enhances the taste of coffee, where sugar changes the flavour.”

“Says you.” Carlo raises the coffee cup to his lips.

“Yes, I say.”

“How about that sweet focaccia?”

“Weren’t you doing errands for your mum?”

“They can wait?”

“When is she expecting them done?”

“Oh, she’s used to how her errands get done.”

“Slow, or not at all.”

“Getting done when they get done,” says Carlo. “She had three sons.”

“Are you all alike?”

“Sweet focaccia,” repeats Carlo. “She does expect her errands done this morning sometime?”

“Date scones,” I say.

“You can date a scone,” says Carlo. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“They’d sold out of orange and walnut focaccias, I got date scones.”

“Date scones?” questions Carlo.

“They taste good with lashings of butter,” I say. “Like everything does.”

“Like everything?”

“Everything tastes better with butter?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Okay, give me one of your date scones then.”

“Coming up, sir,” I say.

I get the brown paper bag and a plate and the butter.

“Do you think I would?”

I cut the scone in half and lay the two halves on the plate.” “What?”

“Taste better with butter?”

I run the knife through the butter and spread a generous amount of butter over the scone. “Yes, yes you would.”

Where would you butter me?”

I spread a generous amount of butter on the other half. “Where it would do you the most good.” I push the plate towards Carlo.

“My mother warned me about boys like you,” says Carlo.

I cut another date scone in half, lying the two halves down on the kitchen bench. “I wonder what you mother would say at the sight of your buttered arse.” 

“She’d say that’s my boy.

I spread a generous amount of butter on both halves of my scone. “That’s my boy? You think she’d say that’s my boy at the sight of your glistening butt hole?”

Carlo smiles as he sips his coffee.