I thought lunch mid-late week would be ideal to keep the momentem if not reciprocate after sunday night but he txt back "can't do, busy week"
So i was left in that peculiar space of cinematic confusion.
May be he did freak out on sunday, so much was optioned yet it was too early?

At this moment i would be happy to just be by myself again and not have any options and relegate him to the bottom of the priority list (and go drinking with boxen) . But i have that pre-booked modern opera performance next saturday with him which was suppose to be romantic, well i'd hope so anyway by romance out of modern screeching opera? i don't know.

I feel as though i'm making the same mistake again, emotionally, and i have to break this chain (i'm feeling a fleetwood mac moment here). It was written in my hororscope this week, that i must try and break a familiar pattern so i can, move to my next incarnation. So what does one do?
Be emotionally guarded till....when? or leave the doors of our deepest heart flung open with vast abandon?

You can have too much Stevie nicks.

I went out drinking with John this afternoon, down at 3weeds pub which will become my new favourite haunt.
Pub in the old style with cushy-seats, deco-mood lighting, tables the size of one-plank and friendly bar-people who speak in thick welsh accents .
They have ashtrays on everytable, God bless'em.
It's small and hidden eventhough it's on the main street.
John is a dear young friend (you know you're old when one has 'young-friends') who has just finished his doctorate thesis thingy in science and is only 24. It's been several months since we caught up so it was good to finally do so in the chilled surrounds of an old'yer pub. The drinks cheap ($5) so i knocked a few vodka and cranberries before we headed to that heathen, Lounge.

We talked some more but honestly we were thankful for the bangers and mash dinner and vodka cranberry (absolut). You see, i'm trying to curb my alcohol intake by restricting myself to one type of drink, how many is inconsequential.
It is hard to talk about the same things, to relate and opinionate on topics which we have vast experiences on. Or as john put it "but you have that much more experience"
Never the less the trip ride home was fun, the indian taxi driver kept burping all the way home.

We didn't go watching the kubric movie instead we had drinks and talked alot at gaslight then down to 3 weeds pub where he tried to say something but it didn't come out right, "i'm really glad we met" and i for a split second hesitated, a glimmer in the wash that is my eye, i hesitated and i think the world heard a perforated tide crash in.
I agreed and we had another drink.
Earlier on we headed to piccolo cafe for abit to eat, it was the usual politically incorrect comments left right and center, he seemd to enjoy the atmosphere and wanted to stay forever.
We share very similar life histories, we at times finish each others sentences, it may be, too much for him to digest.
Or maybe it's me, most probably it's both of us.

I'm about to go out to the pictures with Jamie, i've resisted seeing him during the week as i'm getting abit nervous about the direction of our relationship. Plus the fact i was down with the flu but that's another matter.

This has been the longest relationship so far (touching, kissing allowed) without having sex with the person and i'm finding it a whole new experience. I feel slightly vunerable, am i not communicating my affections enough to him? am i being frigid (from past experiences i don't think so) will i lose him to someone else who's more affronting?
The attraction is there and i have expressed so be it in a clumsy manner and do have the desire to sexually explore his long , toned body, he's blonde too (bonus points!! ding ding!!)
He suggested some 'pub' places for lunch which i'm sure would be fine , be it in paddington, but i abruptly suggested otherwise. I realised for the past few times, well everytime i've been the one who suggested, if not,, decided where we would meet up. I apologised for being so demanding, he seems to go along with most things, but we all have a certain quantity that wants to be heard and i don't want to be overbearing or a reason for regret.
So, the movie we're seeing , being kubric or something was his choice, i bit my tongue when i thought "omg this is boring" , who knows i may even enjoy it, i enjoyed lost in translation and that was something i wasn't looking forward to seeing.
It is this need to control the outcome of a situation, the need to pre-arrange incidents inorder to get away unscathed that has been my trademark of my exisitance but this time i want to change .

This flu bug is strong, well i went out today to see yuji about my hair, he fixed it and it seemed such a lovely day so i head over to wall after for coffee and smoke. I guess it isint good to smoke when u have blocked sinuses cos by the time i got home i could feel my brain scraping the inside of my skull. It was horrible and just now i held my nose and blew hard which popped my ears and now i have fluid draining down my nasal passage into my throat, it's gross but my head feels better and i took some antihistimines just because, i mean when else are u going to take them and now i feel all fuzzy with the physical pressence of an amoeba.
I remember once i took so many antihistimins at work i was doing a million things at once and freaked one of the girls out, she burst into tears when i tried to file a card, answer phone and wrap an ice pack at the same time.

Oh, i think it's time to revisit that scenario, these sudafeds are about to expire.

I got hit with the flu this week, well it's not that bad except for blocked sinuses and feeling all weak and vunerable. It's been so grey i could easily just collapse in the street and pretend i'm a modern Jane bloody eyre .
So besides sleeping and walking round like a zombie not much has happened, i've managed to pay Andrew back for the clothes he got me on credit in tokyo and paid for some crystal pieces which i will be wearing for summer.
My message for summer is, glamorous-new-age-chic.
So depending on my psychic energy for the day , i will wear a corresponding crystal necklace, eg rose-quartz if i'm feeling friendly, amethyst for serious aura prescence, clear-quartz for clarity ot black onyx for uber-attitude.
I'm trying not to be seduced by this new 'craft' phenomenon that has hit Australia, bead shops are opening everywhere and housewives have thrown their knitting needles and macrame sets away for glue guns, toggles and 8mm metal loops.
It's a craze!
But i did crystal necklaces before shell-chips were the ornament of surfy boys, gorgeous surfy boys.

Anyway, hopefully i will be fine for sunday so i can catch up with Jamie again, we've been keeping intouch alot, i mean, i try not to think too much about it, enjoy each moment not thinking too far ahead or it will just get me all nervous.
He's a nice guy (as far as i know) gentler and funny, quirky.

Saturday was busy as usual however there is an unpleasantness has entered the clinic which is a pity. Working with a bunch of women you certainly learn about bitchiness. It's funny sometimes but really annoying most of the time.
Anyway, i went to the hardware shop (god help me) today and bought some pots which looked kind of pretty and blue and cheap. When i got back i realised i had to take plants out of old pot and put them in new. It looks all fine and dandy on television but bloody hell pots are heavy, especially when there's soil in them.
But managed to repot the autum crocuses and found my lily collection has become mulch, pulled out the peppermint which has gone feral and cut back the crysathemumns. To think i actually enjoyed doing this years ago, i just want to concrete the entire back garden.

DSC06080

DSC06080
Originally uploaded by haru98.

Just because.

I took lunch at forbes and burton with a handful of trash mags.

Beef brisket between a round of creamy potato mash and umbrella sized field mushroom.

Very delicious!
Then i took a double gin and tonic and had a decent smoke outside.

I was bemused by Imelda marcos's quote in 'tatler' magazine

"i take over 2hrs to get dressed to see the poor"

to be continued....

You know when you've had too much partying when you mistake taking a fart for actually pooping and you're too lazy to, investigate.

Bucky done gun.

To have thought i was wallowing in self pity i ended up at club 77 last night trying to re-live my party animal past.
It started with an irrate french girl who accused me of stealing her mothers jacket which was a "expensive french label" i stupidly looked round with her under the table till i realised she had taken my cigar before i could advise her not to inhale , it was too late. Well i couldn't be bothered besides an hour later she was involved in some scrag fight with a tiny charcol-weilding art student and then she bursts into tears infront of some nobodies and scampers into the toilets for hours. Infact i lost track of time after i gave some "disapproving-looks-to-her-male-companion" who stood outside the toilet.
Stupid french bitch.
Jamie and i chatted away till the dancefloor looked more inviting, meaning we wouldn't be the only ones there making a fool of ourselves, the music was irratic.
I don't understand this new 80's industrial revival, it isn't even reworked merely played louder and mixed with very high pitched whistling sounds which really make you believe you have tinnitus.
Anyway the night progressed like most club-nights, the crowd came in, infact there was a crowd at club 77 which is rare. The old school were hovering round the back put ajar by these new art students. They are just soooo tiny!
One dear girl was so tiny i had to watch out for her or i could have decapitated her newly acquired bob-cut head with a swing of my elbows.

Why do people insist on taking drinks up on the dancefloor area and proceed to...drink? um it's a dancefloor... ????????????

I did come away feeling abit out of place, slight relic in an age of 80's retro bow ties , skinny clothes, devo-sunglasses at night (what?????) , boys in unbreathable paisley shirts and pastel ensembles.

Why do fat men with back hair insist on taking off their shirts?

The 'art performance' started quite late and was, well under-whelming. They had this girl dressed up in red sequin dress stuffed into two airbag breasts. She shimmied round the stage then plunged an audience members face into her breasts which popped, she manouvered the remaining breast into the center and had it popped whilst she was on the floor. Then she got some audience members to pump them up with bicycle pumps.
The end.
Now do i read something into this or do i just take it as burlesque-cum-nowhere?

Whatever happened to the huge igloo and belly-dancing inside? The neon body piercing or the german cannibal performance where he threw offal all over the floor and squirted the audience with fake blood which we later stomped on all night long?.

I missed the club 77 of old, the goths who've held onto their black lipstick/eyeliner and black hats, grey-felt just doesn't do it darlings.
The ones gripping the roots of Robert smith whilst screeching down avenues in something modern-european.
When haute meets rebel, when vegetarian is served on royal doultan.

So much for sentimentality.

It was nice to spend time with Jamie though.

Why is everyone so fat in the movie 'Titanic" ?

These few days haven't been all that glitters infact more so the fade.
It started with a mosquito buzzing round my head whilst i was having coffee and a lemon curd tart at Kinokuniya. It flew by me and round, hovering with the eloquence of a tropical butterfly with one half hearted wave of my hand it flew away then back again out the corner of my eye i see it spiral down into my cup of coffee.
Did it get caught the downdraft, a mini vortex of colliding hot and cold winds.
I scooped it out with a well polished teaspoon and continued.
Eventhough work hasn't been strenuous infact everything seemed to fall perfectly into place, familiar clients, familiar routine but a lead-like shroud kept wrapping round, enveloping every fuel cell.
I've only slept and read a dozen or so pages and couldn't wait to get home .
Maybe it's a cold, maybe it's withdrawl from excess, maybe it's the calm before the storm.
I nearly succumb to the stress of a fully booked saturday but managed to pull myself back when empathy made me a better man.

I went to bed at 7 tonight.

Now i'm feeling a little bit better, i don't have any want to go out anywhere, it's the long weekend, i don't know what's going on with my dispondancy that notion of continous non-rational fear, the need to be, occupied, fear of not being.

It's a peculiar feeling, when i was busy with being out and about i felt no desire to exist in an interior world that special place where beauty is magnified and exhaled. Once i said "what is art?" as a legitimate question.
This coming from someone who made his own oil paints.

Ws i suppose to go out clubbing this sunday? I'm almost dreading it although part of me would love to be social.

I even went to my doctor to have a mole check.

And so this goes on till i can say otherwise.

I've come to a decision about my financial predicament, i shall go on a budget.
The past attempts have led to major spending splurges (you really shouldn't repress the shopper within) however i have found taking stock of what you have tends to placate any urges for new purchases. I am thoroughly appalled at my excess to think there are people in the world barely have enough to pack into a Prada bum-bag in refugee camps surrounded by well-intentioned first-world kiddies decked out in pastel blue vests.
It's enough to make you want to whore yourself on the Kashmir border, darling.
So as i have been extremely successful at being celibate for the month of May surely i can refrain from adding to what i already have.
If i do have an irrational-depressive-poverty moment i would focus that urge on small purchases for people i don't like or sensible objects such as, kitchen implements and cleaning products.
This will hopefully come to it's loathsome conclusion and soothe my capitalist ways.
I don't want more, just better things.
So June will be budget-conscious month.

Lunch is exempted however alcohol will be restricted to one drink and make do with free table water.

Another thing i have to deal with is this British accent issue or as one person put it "malay-ssssian". I nearly choked on my canape.
I don't want to be mistaken for a , malay-sian nor do i want to be mistaken for a Laotian.
Once i was mistaken for an Indian!
Mind you, if all Indian boys were as sexy as the gorgeous boy at the supermarket check out today i wouldn't mind. That dark smooth skin and lips of wild cloves and peppery cinnamon and a juicy dark cock like.... well i don't know..haven't tasted indian cock yet.
Anyway this morning i spent 30minutes waiting at the bank to speak to someone about investment, they were very late so i left.
Don't piss me off in the morning especially when i'm wearing Prada and on an impossible budget.


And yet more, PRIVATE

Yes, i can do reading.

"Oh, I can see you running...I can see you running
I can see you running all the way back home"

It's been a fustrating week with busy-at-work and confused homeless people who rattle on about my grey jumper, in utter fustration i scream on platform 4 "IT'S FUCKIN DIOR HOMME!!!" to the stares of the destitute.
Then a pair of velvet cord-tie pants i had my eye on at david jones, i waited 3 days to make my move, i hesitated then thought, why not.. so i go back and do the change room, it has coded locks on the doors.
So i try it on.. felt lush, looked abit too big.. cross between tracksuit pants and some forgotten Yves Saint Laurent moment . So i sat down on the wooden bench in the room to see how much rides up the leg , the proper way of making pantaloon purchases. As i sat on this beech veneer bench my buttocks and thighs just slid off the bench space resulting in me falling foward in one glorious prayer movement and there on all fours i looked up at the full-length mirror all alone in a code locked cubical.
With my dignity recorded by some hidden-camera (always wear nice underwear when you are going into the change room) i left the changeroom and was hastily approached by a young sales (client manager they call them these days) all happy and waxed-squished hair like a donkey about to have it's hey-meal. I tossed the drawstring velvet pants into his arms and with the same hand signaled it wasn't to be.
Whilst crossing busy castelreigh st i saw a woman with the latest Guccissima leather tote bag and followed her round till i got bored and headed to Priceline for some trashy purchases.

Proper topics of conversation 49388

client "it was so hard breaking up with my ex, he was so good"

me "where was he good?"

client "oh, everywhere"

me "my ex was only good in the kitchen, he barely passed for the bedroom"

client "why is that?"

me "well, he was a wonderful cook, could turn eggs into a four course meal. unfortunately couldn't deliver desert . I was left unsatisfied"

client "oh my!, my ex couldn't cook but..well..how can i say... he was very good with desert"

Anyway, i've been watching Stevie Nicks live at red rocks, over and over.. made in 1987 (?) ...geez..1987.. i think it was the year i lost my virginity to a gorgeous senior in highschool. I remember his face...hockey player...sweet lips and red cheeks, on his face... well.. i hope it's the one... anyway he'll do.

I love stevie, i grew up with her rockin' it... getting all mystical and emotional.... and those shoes.....

I went out to lunch with Eric the frenchman, we talked about a framework for the internet, about merging both realities and governence, possible united nations proposals and what to wear if we become ambassadors .... we agreed not to clash when it comes to briefcases.

And then i went home.

oh by the way, what is Mariah doing?