Thanking the Tram Driver

Some people get out the front door of a tram and they thank the driver as they leave.

How quaint.

I saw a woman do this today. She walked to the front door of the tram. Once the tram stopped and before she got off, she said, “Thank you driver.”

“He said, “You are welcome.” Or did he just nod? He acknowledged her, I saw that.

Thank you, driver. It made me smile, not the least for it had never occurred to me to thank the driver. It is kind of nice, in a weird, stuffy, old fashioned kind of way.

Thank you, driver.

“Good day to you sir.”

I guess it is good. I don’t know? I’d just question how far back in history it is actually taking us?

Some of those manors – ha ha, stupid spell checker, but it is kind in the spirit of this – er, manners came at an awful social price. 

Ask the blacks, or the gays, or the poor, or ask the women in life.

You know, what the good people, the nice people, those in favour in polite society, what the men, what those who were allowed to travel in the front compartment, and certainly not those who are living ‘disordered’ lives, might have done.

Thank you, driver... for safely taking me a part of my way today. You have been. an integral part of my life.

Thank you, driver. We are all still alive.

Thank you, driver. It is on you I rely.

Thank you, driver.

Doorway

Doorway? Where does it go? Don’t we all want to know? Of course we do, it’s human nature. What is on the other side? That is the question that has fuelled explorers and major religions. Let’s face it, things have often been discovered because someone was curious about ‘over there’. And the Abrahamic religions were primarily designed solely for a two way bet post death. Explorers and religion, open the portal, if you dare. But don’t let me stop you from turning the handle and seeing what you see. Step up, step through, off you go.

Weight of My Ordinariness

Some days I feel crushed by the weight of my ordinariness.

Do you?

I guess we all feel it, at some stage. I guess?

Our self believe can be very frail. For some. Apparently, not at all.

Those confident guys, with handsome faces and perfect skin, perfect bodies and perfect grins. They never know what it’s like not to fit in.

I remember handsome Canadian David, when he was travelling, and was looking for hotels, particularly, shall we say, in orientation diverse areas, he was told more often than not when he went to pay, the pretty ones don’t have to pay.

I don’t know it so much, myself. I’ve always had friends I could call my group, but, I do wonder some days if I am good enough.

Good enough?

It is a concept we need.

It is hard to believe, some days, that I am good enough. When my hair looks a sight, and my self-esteem is in retreat. My face looks fat, and my pants feel tight. My teeth are yellow and my eyes are red. Okay, my teeth never, actually, look yellow, and my eyes are only red when it is something I have smoked myself. But you know what I mean, some days we need help.

Good enough, it is the only benchmark we have to exceed. Only for ourselves, it's not normally someone else’s needs. It is what we do to ourselves, and it is only ourselves from such thinking who need to escape.

You know, mostly, nobody else gives a shit. They are all worrying about their own self-esteem.

It is in our own heads where we need to do the work.

Christian Fundamentalist

A Christian fundamentalist mother stuffed a Bible in her baby's mouth killing her.

Well, there's one current use for the outdated old book.

Chuckle?

Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But seriously?

Answer me this question, Christians. Why did God make her do it?

And don’t give me any of your bullshit. This is an entity, according to you, who created everything and everyone, and is responsible for everything that happens, so why did he make her do it?

And if you say he didn’t do it, and something else was responsible, your religion makes no sense.

“Do you think they had the funeral at the mother’s local church?”

“If she was a fundy, she would have had a church she went to regularly, wouldn’t she?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure she would have. They can’t live without god’s word on a daily basis.”

“I wonder how those conversations went, in the congregation at that poor little bastard’s funeral?”

“Wouldn’t you like to have been eavesdropping in that crowd.”

“Oh yes.”

“Me too, just to hear the, er, justifications.”

“How do you think the fundies would have explained that?”

“God moves in mysterious ways?”

“Fucken mysterious.”

They both laughed heartily.

Pink and Blue

Pink and blue doorway, the entrance to my place. I hang my blue checked jacket up on the hook that is there, just inside the house. That is always where I hang my jacket, it is where I always have. That is where my jacket lives in between trips to town. I don’t really think about it as it is hanging there, I only really think about it when it is cold outside and I want to leave the house. I love my blue checked jacket, it keeps me warm, it never lets me down. It is funny, when I think about it, all the time it hangs there and I give it no thought, all that time, all summer and half of autumn and spring, but when I need it, there it is, no matter how much time I don’t think about it in between. It is like a true friend.

Winter Jackets

I love being buttoned up in jackets in winter. I like that feeling of being snug, strapped in, protected against the cold, it's like a mother's love. Something to hold you all the way through. Secure. A good fit. A great fit. Double breasted is best, a double row of buttons buttoning me in. Right up my exposed flank, my front to the world, you might say.

That's the one thing I like about the winter. All dressed up to play.

Oh, and the cold on my face in the mornings, it's bracing, it reminds me that I am alive. The fresh air against my skin, giving me life, and energy, and breath, blowing any the stuffiness away. 

Air blowing into us. Air blowing over us. Air blowing around us. Giving life, and energy and drive, lifting us up.

Rub your hands together bracing. Heading out into the world facing. Grey skies above. All dressed up with love. Out in the world in a hug. Dressed up snug as a bug. Layers and layers. Just your face, hands and ankles, maybe, exposed to the cold day. The sky above grey. What a fabulous day.

Walking that way. Walking wrapped in warmth. It is a powerful way to travel A to B, steps in front of one another, a winter jacket wrapped around the tops of my thighs front and back, tightly counting the steps I take, until I get to where I want to go.

“Jeremy, how are you?”

“I’m good, Will, how are you?”

“Cold enough for you?”

“Cold enough to turn my balls to brass,” says Will. “How about you?”

“I don’t mind the cold, my balls, and I, are quite well.”

“Good to hear.”

“Is that the clinking that I just heard now?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your brass balls? I’m sure there was a clink, clink, clink, just now.”

“Good hearing.” Will laughs.

“You will have to see someone about that? It could prove painful by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Will laughs again. “I’m feeling the pain now. Brrrr.” Will shook with the cold.

“I guess we can’t expect anything else now it’s winter.”

“Ah, the changing of the seasons,” says Will wistfully.

“I generally don’t mind the cold, it is the dark that I don’t like so much.”

“Nearly the winter solstice.”

“Then we start heading back in the other direction.”

“You must hate the winter solstice.”

“Worst day of the year.” 

Both Jeremy and Will laugh.

“But soon it will be lighter again,” says Jeremy. “By the end of July things are definitely on the improve.”

“Yes Spring, to get us all going again.”

“Definitely,” says Will. “Where are you heading?”

“Where am I heading? That is one of life’s great questions.”

“Ha ha. Where are you heading today? Not in life.”

“Oh,” says Jeremy. “To the bakery and then on with the rest of my life. How about you?”

“To the zoo to meet up with a girl I met out last week.”

“First date?”

“Yes, yes, first date. I think it will be great.”

“You are brave,” says Jeremy. “Taking a girl you have just met on a first date to the zoo.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Too much of a metaphor for the lives we lead.”

“What a funny thing to say.”

“Well, you don’t want her to see the primates flinging shit when they don’t get their way.”

“You say the funniest things Jeremy, you really do.”

“You don’t want to her to think what we might do when we are bored, or trapped.”

“Really?”

“Do you think she might look at you and wonder how much shit you might throw, and how often when you are put under pressure? Do you?”

“No.” Will laughs. “No, I don’t.”

“Our closest relatives, it’s got to make you wonder?”

“Make you wonder, perhaps.”

“Yes, yes, I guess.” Jeremy smiles broadly, he can feel the creases in both his cheeks.

“Only you, Jeremy.”

“Well then, enjoy your day at the zoo.”

“Will do.”

“Will, will.” Jeremy laughs.

“Ha?”

“You said Will do, but surely it should be Will, will.”

“Oh, I see what you did there.”

Will laughs.

Jeremy laughs.

Rabbits

 

If you chase two rabbits, they will both escape

- Chinese proverb

Adam was chasing Jennifer and Sienna. He figured that was his best bet for getting a date on Saturday night. He thought if he chased two chicks, as he said, he’d land one of them. Jennifer had self esteem issues and Sienna would do anything for love, that’s according to Adam’s sister Eve, she was Adam’s number 1 fan. Eve was keen to see Adam have more success with the opposite sex. Eve wanted to see her brother happy.

“So, you should be able to get either one,” says Eve. “Easily.”

“Jennifer is really pretty, but Sienna is sexy,” says Adam.

“You mean Sienna has big boobs, don’t you?”

“Bigger, yes.”

“You guys are all the same.”

“What?” says Adam. “You’re the one giving me the pointers.”

“I’m just looking out for you, little bro.”

“Just tell Jennifer she is pretty, she is insecure,” says Eve. “Sienna had an absent father so she wants someone to look after her, I’m pretty sure. You just have to fake that. And you’ll be in with a great chance.”

“How do I fake that.”

“How do you fake sincerity?”

“Yes.”

“Be big and strong.”

“How do I do that?”

“Oh Jesus Adam, you’re the guy in all of this,” says Eve. “You should know this stuff.”

“Say, you’re so pretty to Jennifer, and say, I don’t know, I’ll look after you to Sienna. Do I have to tell you everything?”

“This was your idea,” says Adam. “It will be easy, you said.”

“Getting into their pants, sure,” says Eve. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t want to marry them, do you?”

“No, I just want a date.”

“That’s good, as marriage is harder.”

It was first year uni dance party. Jennifer and Sienna had been at school with Eve and now they are both doing 1st years arts with Adam. Apparently, Jennifer was going to be there tonight, so it was Adam’s big chance with her.

Eve dressed her brother up in black jeans, and a black tail shirt, she got Adam to wear with the tail hanging out.

Adam was nervous. He repeated both lines as he walked up to the club, despite the fact only Jennifer was going to be there tonight.

“You’re pretty. I’ll look after you. You’re pretty. I’ll look after you. You’re pretty. I’ll look after you.”

Eve had told him not to think about Sienna, as he could work on her another night.

Eve headed over to Adam’s in the morning. She was heading out to Preston Market, but Adam’s place was on the way. 

She knocked on Adam’s door at midday. Adam eventually answered the door.

“What happened?” says Eve.

“They were both there.”

Eve made an inhale sound of sucking air through her teeth.

“Sienna saw me with Jennifer.”

“Oh no, that’s not good,” says Eve. “That’s instant doubt.”

“She worked it out and told Jennifer.”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t in the plan.’

“They confronted me.”

“How did you do?”

“They were both angry. They said they thought I was the real deal.”

“Oh, no one wants that,” says Eve. “That’s not going to get you laid.”

“They said they had misjudged me, and not in a good way.

“Oh, no, there is no coming back from that.”

“They both said they weren’t interested.”

“They are bluffing,” says Eve.

“Sienna called me a snake,” says Adam.

Eve made more sucking noises through her teeth.

“They both stormed off together.”

Eve made big eyes and shrugged.

Rain

Didn't it fucking rain over the weekend? Down it came. If Jesus had floated by nailed to a cross on the wrecked bow of the ark, I, well, me and all the Jesus Freaks wouldn't have been surprised.

As me old granny used to say, “Always live on the top of a hill.”

I told my young nephew that, "God's wife is taking a squat."

"Mary! Is that Mary?" he asked.

"No, she was just a receptacle for god's spoof on earth." Some preposterous story about a 13 year old denying who she was knocked up by?

"Whose god's wife then," Mitchell asked?

It all seemed so ridiculous and all too hard by that stage, as his innocent eyes gazed up at me. "Who indeed?"

"Don't fill his head full of that nonsense," said Mitcell's mum.

“So, who is god’s wife?”

“God’s wife?” asked Mitchell’s mum. “Asherah.”

“Who?”

“Asherah.”

“You are just making it up now?”

Mitchell's mum laughed out loud. "It is all made up, but the stories are interesting." 

"Interesting from a historical point of view."

"What people believed in in history," said Mitchell's mum. "Before they understood that none of it is true."

"What they believed in," I said. "Until they didn't."

"Most people don't believe it today."

"But they still go to church," said Mitchell. "And they still read from the bible."

"Maybe, a vocal minority," said Mitchell's mum. "I think you will find is the truth."

“A vocal minority?” questioned Mitchell.

“Usually, the people who don’t know much but have a lot to say about it,” said Mitchell’s mum.

“It’s just the ones who can’t let go of what their parent’s believe in,” I said.

“Childhood is an impressionable age, and those who still persist with this nonsense are free to infect their kid’s minds with the same stuff and nonsense,” said Mitchell’s mum.

“Empty vessels,” I said.

“Clang, clang, clang,” said Mitchell’s mum.

“So, god didn’t have a wife?” asked Mitchell.

“God doesn’t exist,” said Mitchell’s mum and I at the same time.

“It’s a construct,” said Mitchell’s mum.

“That got out of hand,” I said.

Mitchell’s mum and I laughed.

“Free to infect imprisonable minds,” said Mitchell’s mum. She looked from me to Mitchell.

“It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it,” I said. I looked from her to Mitchell. We looked at each other.

Mitchell’s mum and I laughed again.

“So, who made the rain?” asked Mitchell.

“I think that is a question you should ask in your science class,” said Mitchell’s mum.

“Not your religious education class,” I said.

“You want an honest answer, after all” said Mitchell’s mum. “Not the fairy tale version.

“Do you have religious education classes?” I asked.

“No,” said Mitchell. “Just a bit in history, I guess.”

“Relegate religion to history,” said Mitchell’s mum. 

“They are finally getting education right,” I said.

Mitchell’s mum and I laughed again.

“So, religion is a bad thing?” asked Mitchell.

“Oh honey,” said Mitchell’s mum. She looked at me. “Is religion a bad thing?”

“Religion itself is really just a bunch of stories made up by people a few thousand years ago to explain the things in the world happening around them that they didn’t understand, at the time” I said.

“And now we’re far more educated and we now know the scientific reasons natural phenomena happen,” said Mitchell’s mum.

“And now we don’t need religion to run our lives,” I said.

“You know how nana says wireless rather than radio.”

“Yes,” said Mitchell.

“Well, it is the same kind of thing.”

“It is just leftover from an era which really doesn’t exist anymore.”

“It just takes people time to change in their way of thinking.”

“So, religion isn’t a bad thing?” asked Mitchell.

“Oh darling.” Mitchell’s mum looked at me. We both laughed.

“It can be,” I said.

Mitchell’s mum looked at me and then looked at Mitchell. “It’s not something I want you to believe in, honey. There are so many more interesting things in the world with which to fill your mind.”

Toby Tucker

Hey, Toby Tucker, one of the nicest guys around. We were friends despite our differences in life.

“Upstairs, downstairs,” we used to laugh.

He was a fee earner. I was an expense. He was an asset. I was a liability. Such is corporate law. Despite, all of this, we liked each other immediately.

We met up at work lunches.

We got drunk at EOFY parties.

We ate pies and drank beer together for the celebration for the AFL grand finale.

We danced together at work Xmas parties.

He had that look, that smile, where you’d seemingly be the only person in his world when we conversed. He'd hold my gaze as we talked, always looking back, always a look with interest. Sometimes he'd, practically, buzz with excitement when he was around me, as he liked our chats, as we spoke of interesting things, funny things, all those things. We chatted with ease, he and I, and that is something to remember.

See ya Toby Tucker, with your engaging smile and your interested looks. That endearing laugh of yours and that tasty turn of phrase. I'm sorry you are leaving. Perhaps, in another life time, we might catch up again.

In your new life time, I'm sure you'll meet lots of nice French guys who will tantalise your brain, with conversation and song. Share a lovely baguette, or two, with coffee, and think of me.

Enjoy Paris... because, I'm sure, Paris will be enjoyable in the summer. Autum. Winter. Spring. Be a good lawyer, well, as good as any lawyer gets. (You knew, I'd just have to add that, didn’t you)

There are people we lose along the way, life is just like that. You just have to smile and wave good bye, wish them luck, and be thankful that you have known them at all.

Good bye my friend. Till we meet again.

Royal Naked Blue

Royal Blue velvety walls, shell pink naked skin, here is James. 

He was as dazzling as the blue velvet in his head board, that marble skin and those incredible good looks. Any of the hired help who bought his breakfast in the mornings were never the same after seeing Master James in his morning state of undress.

Pixelated Green and Blue

Pixelated Green and Blue, hangs over my mantle piece in my lounge room. It is controversial amongst my friends, as it is dark and a lot of them don’t like it at all. I tell them it is Sunday morning sun rise after a night out on Saturday night taking LSD. You know, down on the bay beach sand watching the whole world pixilated as the sun rises over the horizon. The sea and the dark night dissipating and the golden sun just starting to break though the veil of darkness as a new beginning. Truthfully, it is an abstracted image of my exs face bleeding out into nothingness so I never forget what pain they caused me. So, you know, new beginning isn’t so far from the truth.

A Charmed Life

People say I have this charmed life, all the time I feel like I never really fulfilled my potential.

People think I have a wonderful thing going on, all the time I feel a bit like a failure.

I have met a new lover and my friends have said it to him, Josh's charmed life. I never know what to say, as it seems so far from my reality, so different to how I feel inside.

Everybody wants to be me. Apparently.

Funny, I always think. Why set the benchmark so low?

Looking back over this...sometime later

The irony is everyone wants to be me, but me. Oh, I don't mean in a big and scary way, but don't we always want to be someone else or, at least, have someone else's life or, at least, some aspects of someone else's life? There is always someone who looks as though they are having a better life? Huh?

Having said that, I am pretty happy with mine. No complains. Well, no one cares anyway, they are too busy worrying about their own lives.

“You had great parents.”

“I think so, but didn’t everyone.”

“No. And you felt you had great patents?”

“Yes.”

“There you go, you are ahead of so many other people.”

“Oh, come on, lots of people have great parents, that doesn’t make me any more special than the next guy.”

“They were educated.”

“Yes, they were teachers.”

“And they had money.”

“No more than anyone else.”

“How many houses did they own?”

“Five.”

They stopped momentarily and held each other’s gaze.

“You have never had any great tragedy in your life?”

“My dad died.”

“But he wasn’t young?”

“He still died.”

“But you weren’t a child.”

“Relatively.”

“You were grown up?”

“I guess.”

“You’d finished uni and had your own life?”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t dependent on him financially?”

“No.”

He tilted his head sideways, I am guessing for effect. And raised his eyebrows.

“You’re smart.”

“Oh, no smarter than…”

“What’s your IQ?

“140.”

“You are handsome?”

“Well, that’s not something I see.”

“Maybe not directly, but it benefits you?”

“I don’t think I have ever thought that.”

“Come on?”

“No, seriously.”

They both smiled at the same time, probably for slightly different reasons.

“You are a nice guy, you travel through the world comfortably, you make friends easily, you are comfortable in social situations.”

“I’m shy, I am nervous around people I don’t know, I’m not at all sure I make friends easily, I find social situations stressful.”

“But not debilitating?”

“No.”

“And people tend to like you?”

“No more than anyone else.”

“You’re athletic.”

“Oh, I don’t know about...”

“You are.”

“I guess.”

“You’ve always had a girlfriend.”

“Ah? Um?”

“No, you have always had a girlfriend. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“And you have had great girlfriends.”

“So why have I broken up with them.”

“You’ve broken up with them, if I remember rightly.”

“Have you ever rented?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been unemployed?”

“I have been jobless.”

“Have you ever been jobless when it wasn’t your choice?”

“Ah…”

“You haven’t.”

“No.”

“You play the piano?”

“Yes.”

“You sing?”

“Yes.”

“How many languages do you speak?”

“Only one fluently.”

“How many languages can you speak?”

“Three.”

“Jacob, I return to my first premiss.”

“Which is what?”

“You know perfectly well.”

“I do.”

“And you are modest?”

“Not that I think that has got me anywhere.”

“It has.”

“It has?”

“Girls like you.”

“Because I am modest?”

“Yes.”

“Who knew.”

“You did.”

“I had no idea.”

“Seriously? Jacob?”

Home Sweet Home
where I can tuck myself into bed
not a care
when it all becomes too much to bare,
out there,
where the people
stop and stare
unaware,
or not,
if it is fair.

Dirty Laundry

Miles and his friends were talking about the WA politician chair sniffer. Miles’s friends believed it was disgusting. Miles thought it's just what people do, dirty secrets and all that. The only difference here was that the poli admitted to it/was found out, call it what you like.

“The poli sniffed a colleague’s desk chair,” said Murry. “I bet you’ve done worse, hey Miles.”

Then all of Miles’ friends wondered if Miles had done any such thing? He had to think and, initially, he couldn’t think of anything, but, then it came to him. A handsome Italian friend of a friend, who Miles thought was really cute, had stayed with him 6 months previously. The handsome Italian had a mattress on the floor in the room next to Miles’s. The next morning, when the handsome Italian was out someplace else, Miles spotted his jocks, clearly from the day before, lying next to his bed.

Miles prefaced his admission with, “I never thought I would ever be telling anyone this, but I picked them up and sniffed them.”

All of his friends laughed. And then came the admissions from each of them, one by one.

“The jocks, um, smelt, good, how I thought they would smell, of Andrew’s sweat, and…” said Miles. “I wished I’d got them when they were still warm.”

“Euw,” said Kent.

“Is this Andrew the hot German?” asked Rachel.

“Yes, the one and the same.”

“Did you?” Murry made a gesture with his hand.

“Yeah, sure I jerked off as I held them to my face. I’m not ashamed…”

“Maybe you should be ashamed,” said Deirdre.

“You going to sit there and act all moral, are you?” said Miles.

“I don’t know why you say that?” said Deirdre.

“Deirdre, I’ve known you since your drunk uni days. Seriously?” said Miles.

“Memory like an elephant, too,” said Deirdre.

“On your guest’s bed?” said Murry. “Did you jerk off on a guy’s stuff who, essentially, trusted you not to?”

“What do you mean?” said Kent.

“Well, it’s a part of the unwritten agreement when someone comes to stay with you, surely?” said Murry.

“What is that?” said Miles.

“That you won’t go through their things…” said Murry.

“And you won’t cum on their undies,” said Mike.

“Seriously, Mike,” said Rachel. “The disgusting things you’ve done.”

“There is an understanding about your stuff when you stay with someone,” said Kent. “Otherwise, society breaks down.”

“Oh yeah,” said Miles.

“What about Bridget’s 9 year old daughter’s knickers you creamed in?” said Rachel.

“I was a bottle of red in and bored and it was late babysitting,” said Mike. “There was nothing on teli.”

“Still hardly one for the moral high ground,” said Rachel.

“I put them in Bridget’s dirty clothes wash when I was done.”

“Bridget let you babysit Chloe tanked on red wine?” asked Kent.

“What else do you do when you babysit?”

“Kent, you used to get sucked off by poddy calves back on the farm,” said Deirdre.

“I was 16 and hadn’t met any girls who let me do it to them,” said Kent.

“What about Carl Sanders?” asked Dierdre.

“Who do you think showed me the poddy calf trick?” 

“Isn’t Carl Sanders…” asked Miles.

“Yes, yes, the one before I met any girls,” said Kent.

“Who you used to 'use'", Deidre made parenthesis in the air, "before girls came into your life,” said Deidre.

“I’ll have you know Carl Sanders is a well adjust gay man, today, living a good life.”

“You still see him?” asked Miles.

“Yeah, sure, some times,” said Kent. “But as friends, not like that.”

“Deidre, didn’t you lose your virginity to a catholic priest?” said Rachel.

“Father Simon Smith,” Deirdre said wistfully.

“He should be gay,” said Miles. “With a name like that.” Mile repeated the name with sibilances.

Deidre exhaled loudly. “He was not gay. And it is hardly the same thing.”

“Weren’t you 15?” said Rachel.

“Oh Rachel,” said Deidre. “I was just as keen as he was.” 

Rachel shrugged.

“What about Sally Keen’s father?” said Deirdre.

“Oh, shut up,” said Rachel. “More wine? Anyone?”

“Sally Keen’s father?” asked Murry. He looked at Mike.

Mike waved Murry away with both hands. “I know all about it.”

“I never jerked off on Andrew’s jocks, anyway,” said Miles. 

“What did you do?” asked Murry.

“I jerked off with lube as I smelt the crotch of them,” said Miles. “Then I put them back next to his bed where I found them.”

“So, he’d never know,” said Rachel.

“A victimless crime,” said Miles.