Sunday, Sunday... day of revelation and partner-specification layered upon nicotine, caffeine, languid physical presence and vivid description of Pete's demi-erectile moments.
Deb's reinvention shocked me, didn't know how to approach this new-vision of demureness. Retro-dress soft on a haute-aura with black beads, 50's housewife-kicking-shit hooked with a pair of dangerous miu-miu sunglasses.
But as the day wrote it's pages her real-rocker roots began to sprout and i was reassured she has not gone soft.
A black heart is beautiful.
The glorious Miss mel shone like the koh-i-noor at sunrise, her appreciation of tobacco nuance impressed me so much i, gave her all my dutchies.
Such beauty and brains made my sunday more than just another weekend.
Pete was there too by the way, for he blogs (to the right please) his style is always understated cool.
Andrew and nori kept my council earlier on... Nori lost the holiday-fat and looking fabulous, like when i first met him 2 years ago. The most sexiest thing about Nori is that, he is extremely modest and has a smile that stops traffic. He's also a vet but unfortunately like most beauty that floats by ...he is taken.

Tonight i got a friend and..another friend in contact and now they are swimming in each others dreams, i hope something good will come of it.

Truth, beauty and a picture of you.

Finally saw brokeback mountain today with pete and the glorious Miss mel. She's so glorious i just want to give her all my dutch cigars. Infact i will.

Despite the hype and neverending queue (1:20pm session was sold out) i wasn;t all that impressed with the whole movie. The first hour was a meandering rocky mountains billboard with a sea of sheeps arses, typical stupid-mens-activites and weather changes. Then there was the sex scene, how on earth love could come out of that quickie-fuck was beyond me, it displayed severe lack of understanding of gay-sex-relationships and worse was of all an inaudible heath ledger accent. Jake gyllenhall was sweet to look at but with the movie entirely focusing on two characters lack of experience and submersion of the characters showed. It felt like heath and jake were doing their best to not-look-like-they-really-don't-want-to-feel-this-way.
Anyway, it's a little window for heterosexuals into a world of contradictive polarities.
Oh, more bloody sheep and rocks... lots and lots of rocks.

Thank goodness for mel and pete or i would have thrown cornbread at the screen.
The man who sat next to me kept picking his nose.

This week hasn't been the best, was sick on sunday, was sick on monday, was sick on tuesday whilst doing 3hrs on a womans armpits... i rearranged my bedroom furniture again, note, do not buy antique chinese furniture, they are impossible to move round.
Tomorrow i'm going to watch brokeback with pete and friends... i think it's vaseline girl... all his girls are nice, aren't they.

I walked round the grocery aisles showing no enthusiasm for discounted laundry powders.

Once in a while just when you think life has become pretty with bouncy continuity and flawless punctuations it just dumps a load on your right shoulder.
So saturday was work, turned out alright after i warned one clients husband to not rest his head on his wifes stomach "if you do i may elbow you in the head" and there was the weird white girl who has faint white facial hair, wants to find an indian boyfriend .
"they so hard to come by cos they marry when they're in their 20's. i got hundreds of bollywood movies. i wish i was indian"
Look missy, no you don't want to be some indian woman languishing in a caste system that puts cow dung in a higher position than you carrying buckets of brown soot water for washing and cooking banging on some empty jam tin for a few coins from fat german tourists.

And then i went home.

I didn't go out clubbing ... i just stayed at home saturday bored..watched little britain and some free porn. Even the cum shot was uninspiring made me think, "what do porn stars talk about?" so i applied some fake tan .
You know, sex in porn is never how it is in real life if it was 100minutes of it would be just sleeping.
I remember one time i said to an ex "but you're itallian" when he went to sleep after only an hours sex session, "it's only been an hour and you're itallian"
All i wanted to to was go out shopping afterwards.
I remember one african-american (what's the correct term these days) sailor i had when i was much younger, "wow it's all fuzzy down there too"
He was fantastic. Most probably married now with 3 kids.
And that aussie guy who lived in the western suburbs, omg he was big, porno size but he was abit cheesey down there.
Anyway lets not get into my sex life or we could be here for hours...months.. years....
I woke this morning feeling very unwell, dizzy, worse than a heavy night out . I sat round, messenger with andrew to see when i could go over for coffee and then in a fraction of a moment i felt something wanting to leave my bowels. As you well know a morning fart is nothing peculiar other than a build up of gases in the bowel that needs to be released for if we did not has gas,methane in it's character, then life would not be audiomentry.
And so without even thinking of what and how ... i just let my body release it's capture as i continued typing away but this time, it wasn't merely vapor.

I felt odd, a certain type of wetness which spread from one tiny exit point to the edges of my buttocks.
Oh , i thought, what have we got here ... i stood up and to my horror and unexplained mirth i realised i had shitted myself.
Now, i understand my dear reader it may repulse you and to be eating a chocolate eclair whilst you have read to this point may cause some physiological reaction but i can assure you, i was most shocked and appalled, whilst giggling at the flourecentness of the newly born.

With the dawning of my excretion i had to take my pants off and then wipe myself with great indignation.
I don't know about you but i don't have toilet paper in my bedroom as i rarely if never go to toilet in my bedroom for it is the domain for slumber however i needed to clean myself before i can actually put new pants on so i can take dirty pants to the laundry. But i didn't have any toilet paper because...it's in the toilet.
In a panic heightened by the fact i had pooped my pants and its remnants slowly dripping down my thigh i had to act quickly so i reached for a sketch pad and used the very high quality A3 sketch paper to clean myself.

A3 sketch paper doesn't flush very well.

Infact it wouldn't flush and i had to take it out of the toilet bowl, wring it.. then take it out to the rubbish bin.

Coffee was cancelled, i had a shower and went back to bed. An hour later i felt something bite my toes, then my fingers, then my neck, then my tummy. It was a tiny ant.
I killed it and went back to sleep.
Minute later i felt something biting my arm, no it's not a cigar, no smoking in bed remember.... it was another ant.
Killed it.
I got up and looked round, there was a trail of tiny tiny ants marching along my antique chinese table to the window edge carrying bits of dust. DUST?, DUST, DUST?,DUST....
So i sprayed them and their little lazy-susan entry into my bedroom with insecticide.
Now i couldn't sleep.

Mum made curry noodles for lunch, i just sat at the dining table staring.

Someone ought to remind me not to do gin and tonic before P.M as it leads to peculiar incidents that become more than eccentric.

So i woke up late, just managed to pull a 'safe' outfit together and do surry hills cafe with anxiety at my fingertips and the need to make fluid movements from cigar-cut to lighting (i still can't get lighting the damn thing to a stylish posture). I tottled about the city buying a tin of maduros then down to surry hills...oh surry hills.. a meander amongst the pelaco shirts and gucci handbags and lots of ambient coloured wooden flooring.
I sat in my usual spot, on the outside of the cafe, the pretentious rim that is not entirely segregated, not at all emcompassing, that darkened edge of a nipple is where i sat. I laid out my eccoutriments, ordered some serious coffee and salmon salad "oh, i'm eating today" i announced.
So thus i was, splayed out like some panther on heat, no, more like a forgotten moth eaten coat but splayed never the less.
Away i blew, clouds of toxic plumes across down the hillside, across over the slipped edge, across back into my face .
I was taking command, exuding non challance, slow-batting eyelids at fashion faux-pas, stabbing at the smoked salmon with death between its gills.
One couple upped and left "i can't stand that smell" i rolled my eyes as they scampered out, yellow vinyl sandals are so unpleasant, it draws too much attention to fat ankles.
Time to message pete and share my moment.
So there i posed some more, arms close with right hand aloft, arms at ease on opened legs (masculine stance) and then this mornings sip and scull...scull..scull..scull!! hit me.
I got up to pay, to leave my indelible inking on this day so slung my mini-man bag across myself...with one exceptional movement i flung the strap over my head and right over me hitting the weight which held the massive floor to ceiling window up high.
Now, i'm not a physics teacher nor am i an engineer nor architech for what these three have anything to do with this entry i will never know however a section of the rather larger 2 meter wide window came hurtling down with guillotine speed and severed a glass containing 15 packets of sugar sticks.
Oh the commotion, the screams (mainly from me) and apologies and losing balance landing on the owner who rushed out to see if i was safe
"are u ok? argh!!"
"omg!! sorry are you ok" i say as i landed on him.
"yes are u ok?"
""yes omg, i'm not that heavy, really, are u ok?"
"omg, yes, i'm fine let me get up, oh my arm is stinging"

"ah, it's your cigar, it's on your arm"

I felt flustered to the point i wanted to pee but had to regain my composure let alone my self off the ashfelt.

Now i don't know about you but i know this, Gin and tonics are best left for P.M.

shopping

Here's a great shop to explore.

My boss showed me photos she took at home, alone whilst hanging out of her lounge room window of.... her fingers, her hands.. the window sill.. and her crystals.
She showed me her "glowing fingers" and plumes of haze and smoke... she showed me spinning orbs she took photos of her garden and hands. She said she's got the gift, she's meant for a higher purpose.

I think it's just her fingers getting too close to the lens with the flash going off, but hey.. who knows.

Let's not destroy another persons perception for that is what they own.

I had a huge spider infront of my bedroom window, it's web crossed from one tree to the roof, it was so beautiful when i came home at night seeing it dangling in the headlights with it's bumpy white and yellow horned body but tonight it's not there anymore.

Ah... i had the most heavy chocolate hazelnut thing with pete, it was so heavy i couldn't finish it... brilliant find boy!
We did glebe , flipped about, "dornn-gerously, call me bubbles!" i blew my big cigar , fuckin brilliant, i will only do cuban from now on. Again thanks to pete for his tolerance and non-fuss attitude.

I'm cranking franz ferdinand on itunes, i'm abit slow.. but i think it's a peppered attitude. Don't think i'll ever be the holistic-smily person.

We talked about blogging, some serious opinoins were expressed, well...do ya wanna? do ya do ya do ya wanna?

i'm so chilled out i hope i don't fall asleep during birthday party dinner tonight, may wake up in a plate of abalone.

sunglasses girl...vaseline girl... blonde girl... swan-neck girl girls girls girls.... and waterloo boy...

I went to the cigar consultant today in desperation because i wasn't having a pleasant experience with a cheaper brand.
He took out of the glass cabinet several very thick cigars encased in a metal tube which he proclaimed, "alot of women are fond of the packaging"
After handling and sniffing various varieties "it depends if width or length you prefer" "oh, i like both" i accidentally let slip and broke out in a fit of giggles with his wife bedecked in diamond rings.

And so i went away with 3 rather large ones and two smaller black ones one of which i smoked at wall. And yes, the difference , no head spins and a controlled chill-out.

By the way, smoking is not good, don't start it but if you do make sure you finish it well.

More stripy bed sheets.

I realise i can't get into bed because the flat sheet is folded under the bed, completely.

I recovered quite well actually since saturday night.

"impression of a volcano"

I was at Newtown today, wandering round aimlessly amongst the subcontinental artifacts.

I went into fiji markets and looked at all the indian spices and lentils, purple silks and such... i thought i better look busy and picked up abag of lentils and started to read the import details..ingredients "red lentils" hmm and these weird squiggly lines. Next to me appeared a tiny indian woman in her tumeric-coloured sari moving bags of lentils round so i thought .. an employee...so i asked "do you know what this says? she looks at the packet...then looks at me.. then looks at the packet "what do you think i am? some bangladeshy bitch?? and walks off!!!

I walked round for a little while longer.. amongst the mini-boxes of spice powder and indian videos and hindu deities and little indian girls wearing pink dresses with white lace edging.
What's with that.

Standing at the check out. behind several indian families i was ushered by an indian man "how was your day today"
what? what? i started tapping my ears.. what??
all i heard was an irish accent.

An indian guy with an irish accent, his mother was perched on high-chair next to him in the tumeric sari.

Through my looking glass, let me recall, let me recant the summer of our apparitions.

Cheap candles and christmas cake, indecisive infants and young adults, objects hung a mile high,

ribbon.

Thankful for love, thankful for disasters, thankful for Gin and tonic.

Verve cliquot with fried eggplant-peanut-rice, Verve cliquot with wild carrot salad, Verve cliquot with children-of-the-next-revolution.

Fireworks, weed, and more Verve.

The day after and 45c heatwave, glancing up at the rear-view mirror of life.

New people with swan-necks and touchable faces, more new people with beautiful faces.

New shoes on a friend.

Latteria after holidays.

Rocker hair.

Sobriety, Gin and tonic.