I Fall Asleep On The Couch.

I’m only warming up slowly. I am managing to fight off a bout of shivering, only just.

6.30am. I find my thick red jumper to put on under my hoodie, so another joint is possible, before Saffy gets up. I find that even with exercising, I can wear shorts in any weather, as long as my top is warm. I need gloves, though. And a second pair of track pants, if I was honest.

“Give me a little drink, from your Loving cuup…”

I had only just come in, when my earbuds were pulled out forcibly, in the middle of Ruby Tuesday. “Look at you wrapped in your bunny rug.”

“It is freezing, it is true, it is freezing.”

“What time did you get up?”

“Oh, you know.”

“Oh, you know,” he parrots. He takes me off by screwing up his mouth and making a lot of zzzzzzzzz noises.

“Good morning, pumpkin.”

“Don’t you good morning pumpkin me. Have you had your breakfast? Have you eaten your breakfast?” I am sure he is talking to me like I am mentally incompetent.

“No.”

“Smoked salmon and avocado, you make the toast,” says Sam. “Move! Now!”

“Okay. Okay.” I get up and walk into the kitchen.

“There is no egg,” says Sam. “And it is cold in here.”

“No egg?”

“No egg.”

“We’ve got to have egg.”

“No egg.”

“There must be egg.”

“No egg.”

“There must be egg, come on! Poached eggs.”

“No egg.”

“How can you be so unkind, no, egg.”

“Why is it always your way,” says Sam. “Why is it always the Christian Fletcher way?”

There is going to be egg.

I head outside and get sticks from the stick pile. I pile the different sized sticks up over the fire lighter. I light the fire lighter.

There is very blond toast on the kitchen bench. “Cook this some more.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“The other toast is cooking.”

“You are cooking more toast?”

“You said two pieces.”

“But these pieces are big,” I say. “That is a lot of toast.”

“Well, I’ve already cooked them.”

“Two pieces,” I say. “One piece each.”

“I thought you meant two each.”

“Clearly.”

Buddy sits in my lap. He uses my right arm as his head rest. When I continue moving it, he puts his left paw up to, maybe to steady my arm. It is tiring typing with a bulldog counter weight.

I put more wood on the fire.

We buy Wicked Stepmother and Bordertown, Bette Davis last movie and one of her first. You’ve got to love PayPal. $54.

The Star is on its way.

I’ve got Little Foxes to watch today. As soon as pumpkin has left for work.

I don’t see why I can’t collect all of her movies, really finish the movie collection that I started, how many years ago. All the good ones, anyway, I don’t need to see the shit, certainly not the 3 movies she called junk herself.

7.30am. Joint outside. It is freezing. The sun is coming out.

Saffy leaves at 8am.

8.03am. I’m outside having a number. Freezing! Good lord. Buddy has just coming storming back down from the back garden.

“I’m just waiting on a friend.”

I put Little Foxes on, when I go back inside. I fall asleep on the couch.

I can't say that Little Foxes was one of my favourites  a period, period piece. To be fair, I did sleep through most of it.

The Music Has Stopped In My Ears, It Is Quiet And Cold

Buddy slept with us. I woke up at 3.15am with him sideways in the middle of the bed, with very little doona to cover myself. I’d had some full on dream, which I could instantly not recall the moment I woke up. But, I was jolted awake, with the final moments of my unconscious. I was a wake after that, staring at the ceiling. I needed a piss and a dump, which turned out to be a lot of fluid and a massive quantity of air farted out with great abandon, after I turned the coffee machine on to warm up. Always turn the coffee machine on first, it takes the longest time to warm up.

“You see going to bed at 10.10pm,” he counts up the hours on his fingers, sucking in air, “3.15. 5 hours.” More sucking of air. “That’s a bit short, even for me.” I only really need 6 hours.

It takes some time for the coffee machine to whir into life. I find my phone, pick the light app to turn on the lounge room lamps, plug in my laptop, take a shit, make coffee, clean the kitchen, roll the joint, transport the coffee and the joint outside, transport my laptop outside – never transport a laptop and a cup of coffee in the same trip, it is a golden rule, it can only end in tears. I find some shoes to keep my feet warm, smoke the joint, transport the empty coffee cup and the laptop inside, hook up the power, sit down. It is nearly 4am.

Milo appears. He clearly wants food put in his bowl.

4.20am. Gets up. Fills the cat bowl. Makes coffee. Actually, washes the dishes he only rearranged earlier. Clean the Kitchen until it is clean. Put milk in the coffee. Roll a joint. Transport the coffee and the joint outside. Transport my laptop outside, second. Hurry, the door is open.

It suddenly gets very cold at 4.30am. I am driven back inside to the lounge room, the grey blanket and Milo.

Transport laptop inside, go and get the empty coffee cup, bring it inside. Plug the laptop in. Wrap myself in the grey blanket. Milo sits on a corner of the blanket and cleans himself.

I want to listen to the last tracks of Aerosmith.

Is it bad that all I do is think about having the next joint?

I make Milo a nest of his own on one of the couches.

4.45am. Another joint. No coffee this time, so it can all go outside in one armful. It is cold and it is like I am smoking the never ending joint. The cold is driving me back inside.

I try to light the joint again, but when my hands are shaking too much from the cold, to actually light it, I give in, admit defeat and scurry back inside.

Milo has found the nest.

My nose is runny, snuffly, I need to blow it. I have to let some of my insulation go to reach over the coffee table to get a tissue. I wonder if it is worth it. I sniff. I sniff again. The music has stopped in my ears, it is quiet and cold. I wish I had a fire. I contemplate lighting it. I wonder if there is any kindling just outside the back door?

5am. I can fix the music. I change my headphones for earbuds, headphones make my head too hot.

I chose Adele. Home Town Glory.

I message David, he’s going through a depressive stage.

5.30am. I am dancing on the back veranda to Rolling in the Deep. It is freezing.

Dancing is all I can do to warm up. I have to go back inside.

5.45am. Wrapped in a woollen blanket, I chose the Rolling Stones ballads. It is a playlist I have, just vocal tracks. “Well, I followed her to the station…”

I regret giving Milo the other blanket.

"I'm a fool, baby, ah, yah, yah..."

I Make The Porridge This Morning

I made the porridge this morning, Sam left me with it when he went back upstairs to have a shower, kind of dared me to make it. Do you know how, was the look I got as he exited the kitchen? I’ll show you how, was my next thought. 1 cup of oats, 2 cups of water, I’m sure that is it? Must commit that to memory. I guess it is already committed to memory, I think. I chuckle… So, there were lots of sultanas... cinnamon, stewed apple and maple syrup, with a milk sauce. My speciality, all those oaty, caramely flavours.

It was just a normal kind of day after that. I smoked pot, ate big pieces of sour dough bread with apricot jam. I sneaked a small tub of peanut butter ice cream, it was on special, when I went to buy pies at the supermarket for lunch, which we didn’t eat. We went out for Pad Thai. I, initially, left half the tub of peanut butter ice cream for Sam, but I ate the rest of it in the afternoon, as I dozed on the couch listening to music. I threw the empty container into the recycle bin, cavalierly, thinking Sam will never look in there, why would he? I stayed indoors. I ordered the DVD, The Star, online. Can't wait for that to arrive.

We took Buddy to the dog park. Brad was there with Martin. (who else is Brad going to be with at the park?) It was cold. We didn’t stay too long. We took the short trip home. It was starting to rain, which wasn’t nice.

We ate snow peas and tofu and egg for dinner.

I fell asleep on the couch. Comfy couch. Big, black cushion.

Sam wakes me at 10.10pm and tells me to go to bed. I am very groggy.

I Got Pot Saturday

I made an Aerosmith Greatest Hits, Deluxe Vocal Mix. I deleted all the really hard rock tracks. It quietens it down, makes in more R&B. I update it with some more resent ballads, and recent singles from iTunes. It's great. I'm obsessed with it. I've got my ear plugs in all day.

“Living on the couch!” Did you see what I did there? “Clever.” I thought it was clever too.

I got pot Saturday.

I was going to go for a walk, but the sky turned black with clouds, at the very thought of going for a walk. I felt a chill up my spine. The weather has taken a turn for the worse. Black clouds blew in. It is freezing in Melbourne today. My fingers are like ice. So are my toes.

Not long after, I pull on my favourite blue hoodie, I head out for a walk for an hour. Steven Tyler singing all the way. Earbuds in. I find headphones too hot to exercise in.

Cable Internet

The cable guy came. He made all sorts of excuses why he couldn't install the cable anywhere but the front wall.

We have to get an electrician to move it, if we want it in another room.

"Is there a story above this?"

"Two."

"What? two?" he repeated. "Are you telling me this house is three stories?"

"Yes." As soon as I said yes, I could see his face change, from the pain he thought he was possibly going to have to go through, to just slithering out of a nightmare job, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, at the last minute. Phew! kind of look. I could see the corners of his mouth crease in pleasure.

He drilled through the front of the house. I’m sure I wasn’t gone a minute. I was out the back, and I heard two whirs of an electric drill. There is so much renovation work going on around us, it is hard to tell from what direction the sound of building work is coming. When I went back into the bedroom, it was done.

"It’ll take 20 minutes to warm up." And he was gone. Just now.

Sam wasn't having any of it, you understand. He called Telstra and complained, the good thing about having a case manager. They agreed to move the connection.

Still, the internet is back on, as fast as you want, it would seem. No, it is much faster than it was.

Free instillation, months of free internet, maybe the pain of not having the internet for those 5 days does seem worth it.

I Dreamt That My Aspidistras Were Flowering Ply Wood

I dreamt that my aspidistras were flowering, but they were flowering in sheets of ply wood. What does it mean?

I google it – mostly I am seeing if I have spelt aspidistra correctly – I am surprised what else comes up. First of all, it says that the type of flower was important. Yes, well, who can say. Next it says the colour of the flower is significant. What colour is plywood?

Was I giving, or receiving the flowers? Um neither.

Blah, blah, blah, blah, apparently, it's beauty, emotion, or an attempt to make things better.

OMG! Then I come across a post of what dreams about wood mean. It may represent someone with the last name of Wood, or Woods. (raised eyebrows) Dreams about plywood may represent being cheap. (I see) Who cares what dreams mean anyway.

I message LouLou to see if she is free during the weekend. She messages back that she is busy. “Good for my bank account.” We pencil in a date for 3 weekends forward. But, I have dared to think about smoking pot. I know it, I can feel it. My usual wings-of-steel against, um, such things had come off maximum power. I can feel it.

I don't have breakfast before we leave home at 10am. “We’ll get something,” says Sam.

I go to Cash Converters and find the two U2 CDs I've been looking for, “Pop”, and “All That You Can't Leave Behind,” however, Northcote Cash Converters charges $3 for each CD and Fitzroy only charges $1. I only buy them because they are $1, that’s my justification. The only use they are to me is to be uploaded into iTunes, otherwise I have Apple Music, which covers everything, Sam continually points out.

And I have bought all the U2 Greatest Hits, all for $1, anyway. I have a tight arse moment, “$6 for CDs I don’t really need, no, the thought of a realist, I don’t really need them... at $6. At $1 for a whole album, that is cheaper than one track on iTunes.

We go to Northcote plaza, it has always been a miserable fucking dump, and once we can find the way in, every doorway looks like sewer, we head to Aldi. I’ve always thought that was telling about Northcote Plaza, never being able to find the way in. What does that say? Even Aldi looks cheap and that takes some doing.
All the PS4s are sold, “Sold out in the first hour, luv,” says Maddison manning the checkout.

Sam says that is curious. “They weren’t all that cheap, not really.”

None of the cafes/restaurants are open for food yet, up High Street, it is still not midday. So, I still haven’t eaten.

We go to the pet food shop, we park right out in front. We buy Buddy his chow. We change back to the original brand, BlackHawk. The cute son is there, he always says hello. It is worth going just to get that hello out of that handsome boy.

Buddy has been getting fat, everybody has commented. Even dogs get fat-shamed now a days. Has it been since we changed brands? Could be? It is worth a shot.

So, of course, we are close to the Preston Market. “We might as well go grocery shopping.” I look at Sam, easy for you to say, I think, Mr perpetually chauffer driven. Still no food. Sam gets out, as soon as we turn into the Preston Market car park, leaves me in the line of traffic, he wants to go to Aldi to look for a play station we’ll never use.

“But it can play Blu-Ray.”

“Which we never watch,” we carol together.

I stop in the far parking lot lane right at the beginning, and just wait, my usual Preston Market routine. Someone always eventually goes, otherwise it is a shit fight just driving around and around, missing car spot after car spot. I’ve been waiting five minutes, when a guy in a blue Corolla pulls in in front of me. People go to a car a bit further along. The guy in the blue Corolla backs up to the front of my car and puts his indicator on. I still haven’t eaten. Sam arrives back at the car. I toot the blue Corolla. He puts his hand out the window and waves me passed. People go to a car further along again. I think fuck it, and pull passed him to take the second car spot. Those people deposit something in their car and walk away. The first car backs out. I try to back up and reclaim the spot, before the blue Corolla, but it is useless. He steals my car park, I still haven't eaten. He gets his kid out of the back of his car, then he walks passed our open car window.

I tell him that he is everything that is wrong with the world, "I hope you never complain about selfish cunts in this world, mate,” I say.

“I didn’t know you were waiting for the car spot,” he says. “You didn’t have your blinker on.”

“You can’t be serious,” I say through the open passenger window. “What do you think I was doing?”

He offers to move his car in the smarmy-git way he’d done everything else. I don't believe him and tell him to, "fuck off!"

I go to Cash Converters to see the price of their CDs, more than a dollar, “Herumph!” I gaze at the DVDs, as I turn to walk out, I see the 5th season of Weeds, out of the corner of my eye, what are the chances of that?

The CDs, I want? The DVD, I want?

Sam is already in the dumpling eatery across the street.

I slump down in the chair. There is a small Asian girl at the next table who is talking incessantly. I look at Sam. He looks at me. I go to the toilet. I look in the dirty mirror, I am unshaven. I have toothpaste around the corners of my mouth, I have a white head pimple on my chin, and I have hairs hanging out of my nose. I was once beautiful, I think, as I grab the nose hairs between two finger nails and pull.

They are slow with the food.

There is a small Asian girl at the next table who is talking incessantly, I mean like a dement little cunt, she never stops.

“Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah!” I am not exaggerating, that is literally what she is saying, at one point.

I plot her death. I think it involves smashing her forehead into the polished concrete floor, or a toothless parolee in a public toilet.

The food comes for me, and the kid. We are both quietened down, me mentally, she verbally.

The food makes me nicer, quickly. Sugar levels return to joyous.

She really is a beautiful kid. I kind of feel sorry for her when I notice both her parents are staring down at their phones and ignoring her completely.

Like I Was A Lamington Having Just Been Rolled In Coconut.

I've had a bout of dry lips just lately. When I wake up in the morning I can feel the ridge of dead skin cells around both my lips. So, I have taken to having a tin of Blistex, actually, I think it is called Calmex, whatever, next to my bed. First thing, as soon as I wake up, I grab the tub and I wipe the cream on my lips. I can feel the dead skin particles coming away on my finger with each wipe around, top and bottom. This morning, I padded down stairs with Buddy, Milo was standing on the arm of the couch waiting for us and I picked him up and pushed my face into his fur and kissed him. I ended up with a layer of cat fur stuck to my face, like I was a lamington having just been rolled in coconut.


I’m in the café around the corner eating French Brioche toast with berries and mascarpone cream and drinking coffee, which is quite nice, despite the fact I can now create a hotspot on my mobile phone and use the internet at home, any excess charges I may incur with that Telstra is going to refund, which is nice.

Telstra is Rubbish!

We are switching to Telstra cable internet. (Because the NBN is not scheduled for our area any time soon, thanks Canberra) Big communications company, you'd think it would be easy? Ah no! Telstra has stuffed up every part of the change over right from when they first started the procedure. Every part of the monthly cost and billing they have got wrong, requiring constant phone calls to them to clarify the situation. And now? Well, the cable was to be installed the morning of 24th July, and the phone was to be transferred no later than 7pm on 24th July. Easy. Except, Telstra despite written conformation to the contrary, transferred the phone yesterday, which meant our old internet connection was cut off, five days before our new internet connection is connected. And no, there is nothing they can do about us now not having internet for 5 days. Sorry.

I'm now sitting in the cafe around the corner. I can't spend $30 on breakfast every day for the next five days, that is just ridiculous.

It was lovely in the cafe, until a woman came and sat behind, who proceeded to call everyone she knew. Even with my headphones on I can still hear her.

Oh yes, I forgot to add, when they transferred the phone, it didn't even work. So when I tried to call to complain, I couldn't.

Cable Internet

I was doing my favourite thing, making digital collections of my favourite singers on iTunes, Cyndi Lauper, Bee Gees, Kate Ceberano, Simply Red…

when [my current internet provider] sent me an email saying that my Internet cancellation was being processed. I called [my current internet provider] to find out what the hell they were talking about? Telstra, in yet another stuff up concerning the cable internet installation, [we’re getting cable internet installed, as it is much faster, and enables us to watch high def movies on our new hi def TV] had requested the cancellation as they had transferred the phone over today, instead of on 24th July when the cable was to be installed, leaving us without internet for 5 days.

Phone calls to Telstra ensued… lots of on-hold music…

…and two hours later, we filed a complaint with Telstra’s cable instillation department. Laughably, we were told that the complaints department would get in touch within five days.

The World Didn't End

Winter Meeting arrived. Yay. Just June Bride to come. And maybe that is it for the time being, enough Bette Davis DVDs, my collection has grown sufficiently for the time being. I have bought 10 movies recently. I think that may now be more DVDs than I had videos in the original collection. All those old BASF tapes, all with the same silver label, all with the name written in the same way.

I painted the second coat on the gate. It is looking good. How many coats do you think I need to do.

I got changed and went to the supermarket and bought beef for tonight’s curry. I also bought more mandarins, naturally. I noticed, at some point, that my left thumb is quite orange from my current mandarin addiction. The mandarins have all gone up in price in the supermarket, there are none currently on special. I also noticed that Navel Oranges were quite a bit cheaper, and I decided to put my “score” through as navel oranges.

There was a part of me that thought – not out loud, and coherently, but there was sense of it – if you do the right thing good things will happen to you in return. I caught myself thinking this as I looked at the mandarins. It is, of course, drummed into us throughout our life because that is the glue that helps keep society together. There is a natural order to life and that doing the “right thing” is the oil that makes this natural order happen. It is what religion is based on, it is what the notion of karma is also based on, and it is, of course, all nonsense. Life is random, and the nature of our lives is random. There is no yin and yang, it is all just a construct to keep society civilised.

And it is all crap. So, I put the $3.50 per kilo mandarins through as $1.50 navel oranges and the world didn’t end.

I vacuumed the house, well the bottom floor, as we didn’t get cleaning done yesterday. Too much shopping. I think that is the first time that cleaning hasn’t been completed on a Sunday. Yes, the first time ever that Sam has allowed cleaning day not to proceed on the correct day, being Sunday.  I did it today because it makes him happy, nice aren’t I?


I watched the end of Dead Ringer. I like Dead Ringer. There are some human touches to it. Bette plays more of a normal character in it, how I imagined she may have been in real life. Oh sure, she is a murdering double crosser who sells out her only true love for money, but, she is not playing some simpering, half-witted, mental defective, grotesquery, so typical of the 1960s, if you know what I mean.

Shopping

We were up at 9am.

It was freezing this morning. Brrrrr!

Sam made eggs, avocado and smoked salmon at 10am. Lovely. I was toast monitor, of course.

11.11am. We headed to Bunnings, Victoria Street and Ikea to shop. Yes, shopping was to be done, new things were to be purchased, namely sheets and doona covers to match the new bed. I was being made to spend money, we’re on a roll now, after all. Ha ha. No, really, I hate shopping, mixing with the general public, ah! Really, it is shocking!

We looked at sheets and doona covers in (name of bed linen shop) at Victoria Gardens. The sheets sets were around one hundred dollars... for a fitted sheet? Flat sheets included, but who gives a shit about flat sheets now a days, I ask you? The doona covers were separate and more expensive than $100.

We looked in Adairs. The sheets-sets and doona covers were expensive too, one hundred and something dollars also.

We went to Kmart and bought a doona cover for $55 and king size bed sheet for $40. As long as they are all cotton, who cares where they come from.

We went back to (name of bed linen shop) and bought a quilted doona cover for $150. Fuck it! In cream too, but the shop assistant said they are easy to wash, and hard wearing, after we told her we had a bulldog. Sold.

We went to Ikea and bought the draws on wheels to slide under the new bed, to put the sheets and shit in. We also bought a draw not on wheels, for Buddy to (not) sleep in. We found a fitted sheet for $25. We should have bought four. We had to pick up the products downstairs. It took us quite a while to work out where to pick up the two different products, as it turned out, from two different areas.

OMG! So many people in Ikea buying shit. The concept of rampant consumption destroying the world doesn’t seem to gel with people yet. Okay, so I was there too, but I bought a few things it has taken me twelve months to get around to buying.

We went to Victoria Street and found a car park in Albert Street. We ate soup for lunch. We did grocery shopping. I bought madarins, naturally

We went to Bunnings and bought a shelf for the garden storage. We found a perfectly sized shelf, for only $9 what’s more.

I was walking up one of the isles looking for paint brushes and out of the corner of my eye, I thought the woman walking in front of me had chosen a large, porcelain dog, which she has in her trolley, that was until the dog moved. He was a gorgeous honey coloured French Bulldog. I told her what I thought I’d seen and we both laughed as I patted her dog. He was lovely.


We came home and installed the new shelf in the garden storage. I finally got all of the tools out of the hall cupboard and out of the house.

We painted the other side of the gate. We bought a second, smaller, brush, so Sam painted the smaller, curly bits and I painted the bigger bits.

We took Buddy to the park.

We ate rice paper rolls for dinner.

It was cold and windy all day.

Sam went to bed first, nan always goes to bed early, taking Buddy with him.

Going to the Paint Shop

I was up at 9am. That’s late for me. But no guilt, I can tell you. I was going to stay in bed for the morning, but I didn’t.

I watched Marked Woman. (When is too much Bette Davis too much?) It’s great. It just doesn’t seem like it is 80 years old. And Bette looks gorgeous in it, oh, right up until her face is mutilated by the mob.

I started to watch, Where Love Has Gone, but turned it off pretty quickly after it started, saying to myself, I can’t do this. I can’t watch a marathon of Bette Davis movies. Even I feel as though that is too much.

I ate sardines on toast for lunch, as Sam is having another work lunch. Shut up! I like sardines on toast, in fact, if Sam didn’t come home every day for lunch, sardines on toast would make up a good part of my staple lunch.

I decided to do something in the afternoon, something, anything, I started late, to be sure, not ready until 2pm. The day just ticks away.

I try not to use my car anymore, if I don’t have to. Partly for the good of the planet, partly, as a health thing for myself, and partly as a nod to the generations who came before us. The people who lived in the inner suburbs 100 years ago, they walked places because they had no alternative, but also because they weren’t as lazy as we are. Or as fat, no doubt. They would think nothing of walking to Clifton Hill and then walking to the city, because it really isn’t that far to walk.

Health and history, that is why I walk, or try to walk.

I’m decided to go the paint shop, in Clifton Hill, to find paint for the front gate. Then, once I got that done, I’d walk to the city, and reward myself with some Bette Davis DVDs. Dangerous, Payment On Demand, and Dead Ringer, as I know it is cheap at $12.

I’ll have music to listen to, any music I want, so why wouldn’t I enjoy a good walk. The sun came out on that thought, which I took as a good sign.

I put Santana on.

I started to walk down [name of my street] Street, but as I got only 100 metres, let’s say, from home, a girl came out of her house with her bike. She leant it against the front fence as she put on her bike helmet, as I walked passed, then she rode off. My pace slowed, I really should ride my bike, I thought. It would be much quicker and just as good exercise. I walked a little further. No, really, I should ride my bike, I thought again. I went home and got my bike from the new garden storage unit, for the first time, thinking to myself, with a smile, it is exactly this kind of occasion that I bought the new garden storage unit, getting the bikes out of the dining room for the first time in years. I smiled to myself. Don’t you love it when plans work out so well.

I changed my recycled shopping bag, stuffed in my back pocket, for a back pack. I headed off on my bike, still listening to Santana. (I’m still very pleased with my updated greatest hits package)

I found the paint I needed, at the paint shop in Queens Parade, dark grey with a metal fleck through it, but they only had it in 4 litre tins, at $89 per tin. And I had to transport it home on my bike. Oh well, good thing I changed to the back pack. The nice man behind the counter put the tin into plastic bags and then I slid it into my back pack. It was heavy carrying it home like that and it was digging into my back by the time I got home, but it also worked fine.

I walked into town to the DVD shop. I bought Dangerous, Payment On Demand and Dead Ringer. The guy behind the counter commented, “I can see a common theme here,” he said. “And you have films from the 30’s, I think 1952 and 1964.” He and I said 1964 in unison.

I came home and put Dangerous on. It wouldn’t play. Grrrrrr, I thought. I put on Dead Ringer instead. It was still playing when Sam got home, perhaps an hour later.

How Much Is Too Much Bette Davis

I was a wake at 5.30am. I had a piss then I lay in bed listening to Sam and Buddy snore. Buddy laying in “super dog” pose between us.

I lay there for a while, but once I am a wake, I am a wake. Sad Face. I got up pretty soon. It was still dark.

At 6.15am, I light a fire. It probably wasn’t necessary, but a fire is always nice, I think. Always nice. Hang the expense of the wood. Fuck it.

I prepared a second coffee and ate muesli with apricots. Halves. Gotta love an apricot half. Oats and fruit is divine.

6.20am. Leonard left the house. He is always the first to leave in the mornings.

7.30am. I was suddenly feeling tired, so I crawled back into bed with Sam and Buddy. Sam chatted immediately, it was nearly time for him to get up for work. I lay there with one eye, and one ear open.

Buddy lay his head on my chest and we both slept until 9.45am


I watched the end of Beyond the Forrest. A masterpiece they now say, where once it was considered her worst film, hopelessly miss cast, nobody had a good word to say about it. I love anything with Bette Davis in it, well, nearly anything, now is that because she is a great actress, or is that because I am gay?

I ate pies for lunch. Sam was having lunch at work for a change, I think it was somebody’s birthday.

The brick layer demolished the front wall and then disappeared. Tradies? Of course, Sam is not pleased about it, “Get it fixed. Where the hell is he?” I kind of like the wall in its demolished state, though, like a ruin, what with its non-linear outline and the low hanging hibiscus bush, every time I leave the house it feels like I am leaving my cave. Sam just rolls his eyes when I say such things.

I headed to Sam’s office to collect his parcel collection card. He tried to collect it in Brunswick Street, as advised on the card, however, the parcel/letter was at the Gore Street depot. (Grrr!)

I listened to Joe Cocker on my head phones. Ah Joe. What a voice. What a find in the second hand shop. How many of his CDs did I discover, was it 5? Five Joe Cocker CDs for $5 surely is a good buy in anyone’s language.

I am repainting the front gate before the brick layer comes back to hang it. (Which may mean I have weeks to get it done) I walked to Bunnings to get paint for the gate. I’d scraped some paint off the gate to match, but unfortunately, they couldn’t match it. I have to go to more of a specialty paint shop in Inspiration in Clifton Hill, or one of the Paintspot shops.

I headed to the Gore Street parcel depot to collect Sam’s letter.

Sam text me to ask if I’d just got home, as the front door sensor told him somebody was home. I told him it was probably Leonard. Sam has installed sensors on our front door, our back door and our roller door, which all report activity to his iPhone.

I went to Coles to get juice.

I hurried home, none the less. Funny, the thought of a burglary gets some pace in my step. I met Leonard at the letterbox. Literally, we just about walked into each other. He was heading out again. There is always someone home at our place, mostly me, which must be a protection from being robbed. And a dog, Buddy is straight up to the roller door and barking if he hears voices. Still, I’m thinking Sam enjoys installing all these things as much as they may act as a deterrent.

A Phone Call from a Stranger arrived. It’s really a Gary Merrill movie, more than a Bette Davis film, but it is an interesting film of its time.

It was cold and threatening to rain, sprinkling just a bit intermittently, so getting in doors was a good thing.

The fire was just a few red coals, when I got home, but as I say, if you can see red coals, no matter how small, the fire can be revived. And I revived it, with sticks collect in the back yard. Call me the fire whisperer.

I watched Phone Call from a Stranger, for the afternoon. Sam wasn’t coming home for dinner, he was having dinner with his work colleagues, so I could be a slob on the couch all I wanted, watch whatever DVDs I liked, eat junk food for dinner, not turn any lights on when it got dark, that sort of thing. You know, just generally sloth about.

Pity I didn’t have any pot.

But Leonard came into the kitchen, not long after I put Phone Call from A Stranger on, and cooked, which is unusual for him, the whole time I watched the film. He was preparing some feast, I guessed Daniel was coming over.

I watched Millionaire Hot Seat, once the film was over, a moment to reflect on what I had just seen, during which Leonard left the house. Maybe he was cooking for another night? Maybe? I was just deciding what to eat myself and gearing up to leaving the house to get it.

6pm. I went and got fish & chips for dinner, miss the news, the best time to go, I thought, just a tale of woe, the world pyscho drama and all that.

When I got back Daniel and Leonard were home. Daniel asked me if I wanted to have some of Leonard’s food.

“Leonard’s too shy?”

“But I have already bought fish & chips,” I said.

“I thought you might say that,” said cute Daniel. “And Sam?”

“He’s not coming home for dinner.”

Leonard sighed. “The one time I thought I could cook for you guys.”

I shrugged and smiled, in a ‘Oh Well’ kind of way.

Buddy was very excited, he leapt around all over the place, lots of people to snuggle with and slobber on and get pats from.

The night drifted. Sam came home late.

I Had A Dream

I got up sometime after 5am and had a piss. As it has been cold this week, Buddy has been sleeping in our room, he is supposed to sleep in his own bed at the foot of our bed but that seems to be a lost cause, now there is a surprise. He had leapt up onto the bed sometime in the night and had taken up the key position between Sam and I and, quite frankly, he was hogging the doona, and I kind of only drifted back to sleep a bit, not fully. I guess it was fair to say I dozed.

I’d had a dream and I was kind of processing that too, running it through my head trying to make sense of it.

I, we, (whoever that was) had to go up a river to find a meeting place. We were leaving from a large river junction, where 2 rivers met. We had to wade through the water to get to the meeting place, certainly at the last bit, if not for most of it.

“But it is easy,” they said. “And not far, in the actual water, just several hundred metres, at the most.”

I was the last to head up the river, I’m not sure why. I was unsure of the direction, or where I had to go, which was making me nervous. I remember feeling nervous.

As I dithered, or as I was about to leave, I tried to text people I knew for conformation of the directions, but nobody was answering me. So I hesitated. Then I met Jane, (my step-daughter) who said she’s been at the meeting place, but now she was on her way back.

“Yes, everybody is there,” she said. “Don’t worry about the last bit, when you will have to wade through water, as it is not very long.”

Then I meet Leah (Borg) (my now estranged, in real life, ex-girlfriend) who was telling me it was easy.

“Not a problem, my gym work certainly paid off,” she said. “Do you have a regular exercise regime?” I didn’t answer her question. She was doing, what seemed like, stretches. “I didn’t find it a problem.” Self satisfied smile. “But then I am quite fit.” I walked off mumbling, “Shut the fuck up.”

The river was wide, the undergrowth thick, with huge towering cliffs for banks. Instead of walking up the river bank, I walked along the ridge up onto the top of the cliffs and along, not really sure where I was going, but I was heading in the right direction. I suddenly stumbled into a gay guys flat. (someone I knew in the past, on the gay scene, who was weird, but I can’t quite place him now) In my embarrassment of accidentally barging in on him, in my attempt to find an exit, I stumbled into his cement sheet lined bathroom. He followed, of course. I sweet-talked him, and he very quickly realised what I was saying was the truth, that I wasn’t a threat, and it was all just an accident, me being there at all.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said. “I’m lost and I have accidentally stumbled in here.”

“But I have trade arriving right now,” he said. “What am I going to tell him?”

“Tell him I am your brother.”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll tell him you are my brother.”

Falling into character quickly, as the hook-up came through the front door, and we came out of the bathroom, we linked arms. “Okay mate, good to see you,” I said.

“Yes, good to see you too bro,” he said.

He greeted the trade, and I exited through the front door.

Then I was stumbling down an embankment and into a lagoon. The bank swept around in a horse shoe shape, there were willow trees hanging down into the water. I walked around the bank, there were groups of men, but I knew Sam had left, I had missed him.

Then I saw Mark and Luke sitting with a large group of men whom I didn’t know. I walked up and joined them. “Hey,” I said. I sat with them.

I sat next to Luke. Mark sat at the other end of the group of men. One of the men had just rolled a joint. The roller puffed on the joint and then passed it over my head to Luke, who puffed on the joint. I knew Luke would pass the joint away from me, because that is what he has always done. It was a large group of men and I knew it would never make it around to me again. But when he had finished, he passed it back over my head to the man who’d rolled it. So, I still had the same problem, it would be passed away from me and had no hope of coming all the way around to me. I thought bugger it.

“Can I have a puff on that?” I asked.

I could sense a feeling of disapproval in the air at my request, as though I had gone out of turn, and despite the man who rolled it not wanting to hand it back to me, he did. As I took hold of the joint, it fell apart in my hands.

I woke up.

I got up around 6am.

Street Art, Richmond

Street Art, Richmond

Richmond

Lamborghini, Richmond

MCG Park

Bridge to Wellington Parade bridge, Richmond

Jolimont Train Station

The Fitzroy Gardens

A Gay Garbage Man?

First night in the new bed. Buddy slept in his bed at the foot of the new bed, he seemed to be staying there and not jumping up onto our bed. I woke up at 5am for a piss and there he was sleeping between us on our bed.

The new bed was nice to sleep in, finally the Tempur mattress has the correct slatted bed base to lie on.

Sam headed to work. He called Buddy as he headed downstairs and Buddy followed, so did I. 8am is as good a time as any to get out of bed.

The sun shone, the sky was blue.

I waved Sam good bye at 8am. The Builder’s recycle bin had already been emptied and was sitting in the gutter out the front. It gave me a certain feeling of ease knowing that the lid not closing, after I had filled it up with our waste, hadn’t upset the guys who emptied it.

I ate muesli. I drank coffee. I read the news. I looked at Facebook. Buddy sat in my lap.

Just after 9.30am, I decided to catch the train to Camberwell to pay my parking fine I got in [mum’s street] the last time we were there to collect the dining room table. I left at around 10am, walking to Parliament.

Upon investigation, I could go to Glenferrie station and to the Hawthorn town hall right next door. It was the closest town hall/train station combination out of all the options.

I was dressed and leaving the house not long after. It was a bit cool, despite the sun shining, but I had on a woollen jumper and a copy of In Cold Blood in my hand to keep me warm.

Forth platform for a train to Glenferrie station from Parliament Station. I raced down to Platform 4, funny how there is always a sense of urgency when you are rushing down those escalators. The train from platform 4 was heading around the City Loop, I didn’t want to spend 20 minutes going around the City Loop, so I walked over to platform 3 where there was a train going directly to Flinders Street Station, 3 minutes later, so I caught that.

It was lovely catching the train. Very cool, relaxing, easy. I read my book and looked out the window. I try to catch the train, or walk, instead of driving now a days. If we all tried to catch the train instead of driving, you never know, we could possibly save the planet.

And it is nice to be driven somewhere, chauffeured, even if it is by a train driver. It gives you a whole other perspective to travel and your city and life really, it is unhurried and non-combative.

When I got to the Hawthorn Town hall, there were mothers and their children buying tickets to go and see something by Roald Dahl in the town hall. The woman in front of me, of course, wanted to know if she could get her 4 year old in for free, despite her having what looked like a 4 year old, a 5 year old and a 6 year old, so the guy had to go off and find out and we were all left standing there wasting our time while he did. The answer was that all children had to buy tickets to a kid’s show, (oh really, I was surprised, not) so she eventually did. As this was going on, another woman finally came out from the back office and asked if everyone were buying tickets.

“No, I’m paying a parking fine.”

“Oh, that’s no fun,” she exclaimed. “Everyone else are getting tickets and you have to pay a fine.” Big eyes.

I complained about the fine that I got in my mum’s side street. “When did a normal suburban side street have no parking signs?” I asked.

“Is it Hawthorn, or Camberwell?”

“Camberwell,” I said.

“Oh, where I live in Hawthorn, I get parking tickets all the time.”

All I could think was, idiot, at that comment.

In my entire driving years, this would only be my 3rd, of 4th parking ticket. There are very few things that are a bugger waste of money than a parking ticket.

On the way home, I got off at Richmond station, as by the time I faffed around at Flinders Street Station, finding a direct train to Parliament, then walking from Parliament to home, I might as well just walk from Richmond to Fitzroy. It was a crisp, sunny day after all, even if it wasn’t so warm.

Sam and I ate lunch at the Japanese restaurant, he had fried chicken, I had Ramen.

I sneaked off to the Salvos in Abbotsford and bought KD Lang and Joe Cocker CDs, 10 for $10. I love that. C&C Music Factory, David Campbell, and Leona Lewis’ first CD.

I waited for the rest of my Bette Davis DVDs to arrive in the post. What is it they say about a watched letter box?

It was a sunny afternoon.

Buddy kept sitting himself in my lap. He just crawls in, unannounced, like the unstoppable force, like I am incidental to the whole procedure.

3.30pm. What time does the postie usually arrive?

I got out my trusty serrated knife and chopped up all of the remaining boxes, half of the large bed box and all of the garden storage box. I cut it up in anticipation of the [shops name] recycle bin being put out tonight. And it was bin night, so I was determined that I was going to get rid of all the mountain of waste cardboard tonight. Cleared. Gone.

I cut it up on the front veranda, as I half waited for the postie to arrive.

Funny that I revel in being the old bin lady of the street. It is funny that I pride myself on being able to get rid of all of our rubbish, not matter how much there is. I am sure I get it from my mother. By hook, or by crook, just get rid of it all.

I cut the cardboard into easily handled pieces, for a quick dispatch. My hand hurt by the time I was done. As I was cutting it up, I noticed that the crazy blond bitch from the end of the lane had already put out her bins. I looked inside her recycle bin, it was a quarter full. I got our recycle rubbish from the kitchen and emptied it into her bin, so our bin was clear for the cardboard. We didn’t have so much recyclable rubbish, so her bin was still only half full, so I filled it with cardboard. I looked in her normal bin next to it, and it was almost empty too, so I filled that with cardboard. I cut the rest of the cardboard into even smaller pieces and managed to get a lot of it into our recycle bin. Then I put out our main rubbish and I managed to stack the rest of the cardboard into the top of our normal rubbish bin. And then I’d suddenly got rid of all of the cardboard. I was pleased.

The old bin master does it again.

Sam came home and said let’s take Buddy to the dog park.

On our walk around to the park, I saw that all the bins in the neighbourhood were out, many of them stacked with old boxes on top of them.

“Look at that,” I said. “These people just aren’t trying hard enough. Cut them up people, get this shit into your bins. You know the garbos aren’t supposed to take anything that is not inside your bin.”

Sam just looked at me like I was talking rubbish. (Do you see what I did there? Do you like it?)

“Really, these people should be trying harder,” I said.

I’d found two more Bette Davis CDs that I wanted, Winter Meeting and June Bride, which I have always wanted. To Sam’s credit, he just let me order them, paying for them with his PayPal account. I did say that I’d set up my own Pay Pal account, but he said, “No, just use mine.”

We ate rice and spicy pork mince and tofu and snow peas and carrots for dinner.

Travelling by train

I like it. It is relaxing, in a non-contact version of travelling the suburbs. There is always another pissed off driver on the roads now a days.

Glen Ferrie station, with sympathetic development.

Glen Ferrie, out in the burbs

Glen Ferrie, this hasn't changed since I was a kid

All The Things You Are Going To Do When You Have The Time?

Sam kissed me good bye, I was still asleep. I opened one eye. My hand waved from under the doona

I sat up in bed, got my laptop and read the news. Nice and warm and comfy. What is going on in the world, I half-heartedly tune into the world psycho drama. What is your tale of woe today?

8.15am, listened to Mitch’s morning explosion, as he always gets up late and then he charges from his bedroom to the bathroom, then he charges back to his bedroom, irons a shirt and charges out the door.

Ah the good old days, I think, as the front door bangs shut.

Sam sent me a list of directives, all the things he thinks a I should do.

9.15am.

Have you feed him (Buddy)? – Sam

don’t forget to do washing including the socks – Sam

yes, honey – Christian

we need to change our towels too. Check what’s in the study room big basket, if it’s nothing important, why don’t move the basket into the storage shed, now that we have it – Sam

I think the stuff in the basket is stuff we want to donate – Sam

Bevmark just called, will arrive between 10-12 10/7/17 – Sam

Okay, honey – Christian

I read all the news. When I found myself watching Donald Trump’s meanest moments on Youtube, I knew it was time I got up.

I don’t care about Donald Trump. I don’t care about Kim Jong-Un. The Gulf war, the Iraqi war, I would never have known about them, if they hadn’t been eagerly rammed down my throat by the world’s press in the chase for ratings.

I made coffee and muesli and listened to a Bette Davis history on Youtube. I have 5 new Bette Davis films coming, I can’t wait. Funny the stages you go through, it’s Bette Davis at the moment. Sometimes it is the Rolling Stones, sometimes it is Bette Davis, sometimes it is writing, sometimes it is reading fiction, and soon it will be miniature golf.

All the things you are going to do when you have the time? I’m sure it is the not-having-the-time that makes all those things look so attractive. When I have the time, I let the days drift, all the time in the world, I’m sure it will be Friday again in no time, and I still won’t have got anything done.

We are a perpendicular lot. Or is that just me?

This was my time to get stoned with abandon and to write something. Sam seems to have messed that up. Still, I’m sure there is plenty of time.

Speaking of plenty of time, my dad died at the age of 71, if I died at the same age, I have 15 years left. Plenty of time?

The new bed arrived at 10am, delivered by a very handsome wog boy. (I’m allowed to say that, as I once had an Italian boyfriend, and I have a lot of Italian and Greek friends)

10.15am.

let me know when the bed frame arrives – Sam

it arrived – Christian

big? Where’s it? – Sam

in the front hallway – Christian

heavy? – Sam

heavier than Buddy, but lighter than the Peugeot – Christian

I SEE. you think you been funny – Sam

Well, what do you mean, is it heavy? – Christian

do you think we can carry it to our room? – Sam

yes – Christian

manageable module? – Sam

I’ve carried some of it upstairs already – Christian

Lovely. just don’t hurt yourself. And don’t smash into furniture – Sam

Yes, honey – Christian

are you happy with the colour? – Sam

I haven’t opened the box – Christian

open it, have a peak – Sam

I thought we could carry it upstairs first – Christian

Ok – Sam

has the brick man come? – Sam

this arvo – Christian

we should go out for lunch today – Sam

okay, honey – Christian


The sun shone, the sky was blue, with Simpson’s clouds, even if you wouldn’t exactly call the day summery.

We went out for lunch at midday.

I looked through Cash Converters CDs. I bought Bette Midler’s, Experience the Divine, to get Wind Beneath My Wings, and the song she sang on the last Johnny Carson show. I can add those 2 tracks to one of her other albums I have on iTunes as bonus tracks and then discard the CD. For $1, why not. And I bought David Archuleta’s first CD because he was so cute on the cover. Adorable. (Google his first CD cover and see if I am right) You’ve got to love $1 CDs. I bought three seasons of Will and Grace and I bought season 4, one of the two missing seasons, of Weeds. I was happy with that.

I bought sausages at Woolworths for dinner.

Marked Woman and Little Foxes arrived. I have never seen either. Very excited.

Jill called late in the afternoon from Queensland, she told me her new wooden floors had buckled while the tenants, who have just moved out, lived there. Everybody is blaming everybody else, the builder is blaming the floor people, the floor people are blaming the tenants, the insurance company is blaming the plumber, and the plumber is blaming the tenants, and as Jill says, she can already see that the buck is going to stop with her, like a case of financial musical chairs. And Tony Abbot wanted to cut red tape for business, business that will lie and cheat anybody whenever they get a chance to pass the buck.

We’re supposed to be going up there in the first week of August, but Sam isn’t keen, he doesn’t have any more leave, as he exhausted it all with our trip overseas, not even for 2 days either side of a weekend.

And I have another skin cancer on my face that has to be cut out. It is me and Hugh Jackman and our basal cell carcinomas together. I’m going to see the plastic surgeon on the 19th of this month. I’m not sure I want to be visiting Queensland with a huge bandage on my face. Of course, Mark Iceman, Jill’s brother in law, is up there now with terminal Lymphoma, but what the hell.

But we have already told Jill that we will, oh, she will be disappointed. She will argue the point. Oh, that will be a pain. Jill can be spoilt and not understanding if she isn’t getting her way.

Sam came home at 4.30pm and we took Buddy to the dog park.

Sam and I set up the new bed. It is too big for our bedroom, it was a mistake, I could see that before we’d even finished setting it up. You see, we always only had a mattress and a bed base before, and now we have a bed head and a bed end, which are much bigger in the room. Oh, I guess I’ll get used to it. I hope.

I cut up some of the cardboard boxes, the bed and the garden storage shed had been delivered in, ready to slip it into the shops, on the main street, recycle bin tonight after they put it out. I figure, as long as I only put stuff in it after they have clearly finished putting their waste in it, what does it matter. I’m sure they aren’t paying by weight, or even volume, I assume they are paying by bin empty. The soft white padding that was around the bed head and bed end I wrapped up into balls and I walked to the bin on the corner of our street and slipped it in. (Well, it’s a bin and its public)

I waited until the shops had packed up and gone home, when the light had been turned off in the kitchen, and all was in darkness, then I sneaked cardboard into their large recycle bin. I only got a small portion of the cardboard into their bin before I couldn’t close the lid. What with the garden storage and the new bed, I still have a shit load of cardboard to get rid of. I hoped there weren’t any rules about the bin being too full so as not to allow the lid to close, as I scampered back to my house in the dark.