…….slept well but kept having this nightmare that Queensland lost the football, or the will to live. I settled down to spend the day being terminally depressed by the state of origin disaster. Good grief the Maroons should be paraded through the street naked….. my street, three times daily, and forced to stand and be photographed nude outside my bedroom…… enough said!!!!!!.
First thing I took off to collect the papers and dropped by two local beats (bogs) where I photographed some crudely drawn porn grafitti for a wood incised piece of sculpture I am working on. Walk into a public toilet with a camera and you are bound to get looks. I was interrupted in the second one and I though uh oh things are looking up…. I mean who else is out and about public bogs at 6.30am unless it is a tradie looking for a bit of relief on the way to work. Unfortunately no…it was the contract cleaner and he wasn’t looking for a root. Luckily I had already taken my pics as he was there with a paint pot to do his weekly paint out of porn. We commiserated about the footy… I didn’t mention my plan to line the team up outside my bedroom door. There is just so much bonhommie one can summon in a public toilet before 7am I headed home.
Thankyou Tammie in Darwin…….. my porn arrived.
A little later I had a wine delivery so I had to tuck in to see that it hadn’t been corked. MBH (my better half ) said ‘it’s screw top‘….. so???? Somewhere in the process of previewing one of the DVDs and finishing a glass of vino blanco, I tripped over a pile of clothing (oh yeah… so where did that come from) but you will be pleased to know not one drop of poppers were spilt…. but I did sustain a whack to the head on a passing column, a minor injury and as being a believer in ‘erbs I cut a tentacle off an aloe vera plant, skinned it, and smeared it on my forehead…. Later when I went out to collect a box of decking screws I kept wondering why everyone was staring at me just above the eyes, or worse looking as if they were going to flee. When I arrived home I found that the sun had set the aloe vera a fluorescent yellow, so I look like I had been crapped on by a low flying Mardi Gras; and a big one at that.
As the day progressed I desparately needed the comfort of a stranger, I had several hits from 2 gay chatrooms, but they involved more than I was willingly to give to the undertaking… shit guys are fickle. Particularly me if it involves running a taxi service to collect and return a guy…..and before you get off the starting blocks he is telling you what he will or won’t do…. I’m thinking ‘it’s a root not a marriage proposal’, ‘Hey‘ I said to one guy who required collecting… ‘Drive 25kms to pick you up?, I don’t even get out of bed for a root’. It reminds me of the time I used to do the taxi service running the kids to their various sports events on saturdays…..hated it and they were the fruit of my loins.
I faffed around on the computer down loaded the pics I had taken: a couple of naive cock/arse drawings, several pithy requests and a couple of mobile phone numbers.
I am amazed by guys who leave their mobile numbers , slightly dangerous, you think? . But I have to admit I was once given a mobile phone that had been inundated with straight washing detergent. I took the SIM card out and wrote the number up at a couple of places I visited. I got a few calls, I was always apprehensive turning up to a meet but I guess that extra frisson of fear added to the action…. but it got to the stage where it was just too nerve wracking trying to figure whether this was a guy who was up for it or out to give me a kicking. so I gave it up.
Now it is evening, and I am sitting here with a wine in one hand, typing with the left. Had a guy hit me up… he is a visitor to the coast, he is into everything, we agree and yes he has a car…. and then he says…’can you arrange a 3some?‘
Can you get fucked I think.
“No mate, try to get yourself a root down your end of the coast’ , I say, ‘Get back to me when you got yourself sorted’
He has come back up on the screen of my computer while I have been typing this blog….In a private chat box he says: hi, u still interested? Of course I am still interested , I just can’t be fucked.
I don’t think I will answer him….. I think I will just go to bed.
circa 1990
“I could go out the beach with you’
” Dad, I don’t think so.”
“I wouldn’t get in the way. . . . “
‘Yes you would. . . . I go there for sex, what are you going to do…watch?”
“Why do you do it?. . . can’t you find some-one ‘normally’?
“Normally?. . .this is normal for me, how can I explain it. . . . it’s like you and fishing, only I go hoping to catch some-one, and the thrill of not knowing if I will. Who he will be, what he’ll want me to do. . . . . yes, just like fishing, and I love it”
The maroons got flogged…… jeez, didn’t see that coming.
maybe I’ll get back to that bloke……………………………………………….
