It's Not Just Your Black Teeth, Or Your Stinking Arse

Bad behaviour, drinking again, like it is a thing, you know

they say it all surprised, like it had never happened before.

"Oh, dear god!" applause. “Someone get that fool a drink!”

And then there is your red wine mouth, you looked like a ghoul the last time you looked up. It surprised me, took me back. I was taken aback. I jumped, well, double took.

And all I could think of was the last time, and

red wine poo? It makes the poo paper look like gravely liquorice, I always think. Translucent Black. (good name for a band) A smear of trendy half muted, mat finish midnight strain.

Who looks? I know I always look. Do you? Does everyone admit to that? Looking at the crap you have just wiped from your arse? Don’t you have to look, so you know when to stop wiping? You don’t want to wipe the skin away. You want to be able to sit down whenever the mood takes you. I don’t suppose ladies admit to such things in polite company. (Most ladies would have you believe they don't shit at all)

It makes your vomit turn pink, (red wine, not poo)

Let me hold your hair back, as your mood turns grim,

your breath stinks, and there is all that drool down your chin,

get in water and you sink, oh no, we would not recommend that,

you can’t swim, you shouldn’t even try, glug, glug, glug, glug,

because as they say, it’s a good way to die. Cheaper than a Swiss clinic on the fly, though, I might just add.

And yet, we are all practically congratulated for downing some red plonk. A bottle, or two? An afternoon hard at it. A goon bag with a straw up a laneway with the headlights still blazing. It is amazing, how any of us got through our teenage years.

“More wine fellas?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

“I think it might help to relax you.”

“And forget.”

“Forget?”

“My premonitions…”

“Inhibitions?”

“Oh, no,” And he belched loudly. “I definitely saw that coming.”

“But you didn’t forget.”

“Forget what?”

It's Not Just Your Teeth That Change Colour

Bad behaviour, drinking again,

They say it surprised, like it had never happened before.

Oh, Red wine mouth, you looked like a ghoul the last time you looked.

Red wine pooh, it makes the pooh paper look like gravely liquorice.

Who looks? I know I always do. Do you?

It makes your vomit turn pink,

your mood turn grim,

your breath stink,

get in water and you sink,

you can’t swim, you shouldn’t even try,

because as they say, it’s a good way to die.

My Home Town

I love that Melbourne is multicultural, but then, aren't all cities now a days? What with the immigration question and all?

Of course, conservative politicians exploit immigration ruthlessly to spread fear and hate hoping it will encourage people to vote for them, but that is not peculiar to my home town. In fact, my home is the least likely place in Australia where racism would work for political reasons.

The most civilised city in the country, is my home town.

I love it being a tram city, ding, ding, all aboard! It is one of the biggest tram cities in the world. Melbourne people are quite proud of that fact. Melbourne people are proud of their city.

I love its eclectic lane ways, their avant garde appearance, it's maze-like web across the heart of the CBD.

Marvellous Melbourne. It was once one of the greatest Victorian cities in the world.

I love that the people unabashedly wear black to make it a very black city. Black is style, black is culture, black is assurance in our own being.

And we haven’t even talked about coffee. Best in Australia. So many of the other cities in Australia are envious of Melbourne’s coffee reputation. Lots of Italians immigrated to Melbourne, so that’s where the fine coffee came from.

Black Car

Who Is a Pretty Boy?

I was at the top of Bourke Street nearly at Spring, attempting to make my way past The Green Chilli, or The Red Pickle, through the people sat the outdoor tables on the foot path. The people and the tables were many, the spaces in between were limited.

A handsome Indian guy smiled, tilted his head, stepped sideways, and swept his hand in front of himself for me to walk through before him. He looked me in the eye and smiled when I hesitated. His beautiful eyes twinkled, his lips parted gently to show a row of pearl white teeth. My breath was taken away just for a moment. I guessed he knew it. He had the self assured smile of a man who was born handsome.

"After you," he said.

I nodded, as if to say thank you, and stepped past.

That jawline, that bone structure, that skin. I won't tell you how he filled out his jeans, I guess you can imagine, but I did notice.

"Thank you," I said.

"Oh no, it is my pleasure," he responded.

I looked back and he was still gazing at me. I nodded my head again and smiled.

Tall and strapping. He had large hands and big feet. I noticed the feet because he had those long, pointy kind of shoes on, which accentuated the length of his feet. 

I wondered? You know what I wondered.

I don't know what they say about Indian guys, in particular? But, I know what they say about guys in general and from my experience it is true what they say. But, what about Indian guys, are they known to have, er, big feet? 

I can’t say I have ever heard it said, you know, about their feet? No, I can’t say that I have.

Last Words

What would you like your last words to be?

I know what I want mine to be,

Get the lights, will ya?

Apparently, Tallulah Bankhead's last coherent words were "Codeine . . . Bourbon . . ."

Oscar Wilde’s last words were allegedly, “My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us must go.”

The Comtesse de Vercellis let one rip while she was dying. She said, “Good. A woman who can fart is not dead.”

Johnny Ace – an R&B singer, died in 1954 while playing with a pistol during a break in his concert set. His last words were, “I’ll show you that it won’t shoot.”

Murderer James W. Rodgers was put in front of a firing squad in Utah and asked if he had a last request. He replied, “Bring me a bullet-proof vest.”

Richard Feynman – The physicist, author, musician, professor, and traveller died in Los Angeles in 1988. His last words? “This dying is boring.”

Actor and comedian W.C. Fields died in 1946. His last words: “God damn the whole friggin’ world and everyone in it but you, Carlotta.” He was speaking to Carlotta Monti, his longtime mistress.

Percy Grainger was an Australian composer who, with his dying words, told his wife Ella, “You’re the only one I like.”

Derek Jarman was an artist, writer, and filmmaker. His last words were “I want the world to be filled with white fluffy duckies.”

As he was dying, Alfred Hitchcock said, “One never knows the ending. One has to die to know exactly what happens after death, although Catholics have their hopes.”

Charles Gussman was a writer and TV announcer who wrote the pilot episode of Days of Our Lives, among other shows. As he became ill, he said he wanted his last words to be memorable. When his daughter reminded him of this, he gently removed his oxygen mask and whispered: “And now for a final word from our sponsor—.”

When Groucho Marx was dying, he let out one last quip: “This is no way to live!”

Sir Winston Churchill’s last words were, “I’m bored with it all.”

Actress Joan Crawford yelled at her housekeeper, who was praying as Crawford died. Crawford said, “Damn it! Don’t you dare ask God to help me!”

The wonderful Kenneth Williams last words in his diary were, “Oh, what’s the point.”

Maud

As me old granny used to say, get them, dear, before they get you. Oh, she didn’t really say that at all, but she was tough and got her way.

She made a fortune out of real estate, essentially starting off with nothing. She was a milliner by trade. 

There were rumours of diamond thefts back in England, nothing proven, though. They say her brother was involved. It was, allegedly, the reason a number of them immigrated to Australia quickly.

She took all of my grandfather’s wages and gave him a miserable allowance. He had to walk to the CBD from Kew every day because he had no money for the tram fare. He had a rock cake and a cup of tea every day for lunch under Flinder’s Street Station.

She had another man’s photo on her bedside table all of her married life. That is true, I’d see it there when I’d stay.

She used to brush my hair and tell me I was the most handsome boy in the world. You gotta love granny's.

She had skin like an English rose and eyes that sparkled like blue sapphires. She was a genteel English lady.

She had abortions, so my great aunt used to say, who I also adored, but it was true to say they didn’t adore each other. But, my mother said that the abortions may have been true. As a child, she used to go with her mother to the hospital for injections, or some such thing.

“I always loved geography,” she used to say to me. “You can go all over the world finding what’s good.” She’d laugh and say, “It is the most interesting thing to do.”

As old as my little finger, my tooth is a little younger, she used to say when asked her age.

She lived until she was ninety five. 

Do You Think it's Weird?

Do you ever think it is weird, there we all are in our own tribes speaking in our own, peculiar dialect of language?

All of those sounds meaning different things.

All of those languages and we still can't communicate peacefully.

All of those words and we still have difficulty living together on this planet.

I think it is weird. It is as if we haven't evolved at all.

Probably not as much as we like to give ourselves credit.

We’re all saying so much more, with so many more devices, and yet we are communicating less.

It used to be the tyranny of distance, but we eradicated that. And we are working on eradicating it even further, I’m sure.

Of course, many people don’t think it is weird, as they don’t think beyond themselves, and if you don’t think beyond yourself, you don’t think anything is weird, except, perhaps, why you aren’t being considered more special than you currently are.

And then many other people think it is weird, human beings not being able to communicate effectively, but they think it is too difficult to change, and you know what, I don’t blame them at all.

And then there are the people who try to effect change in human communication.

And, of course, you have those people who are trying to effect change to make life better for themselves.

And you have the people who are trying to effect change to make life better for everyone.

The trick is that you need to associate yourself with the people who are trying to make communication and life better for all.

But, I guess you knew that already? Did you? Think that?

Or not? No?