"Timeless are the creatures who are wise...."

With a lingering flu in full flight i stumble out to Latteria for some coffee and sun for the day was golden and teasing.
Still my smoking causes furious retreat amongst sunday society but my life isn't one of sensibility.
It was a day of sinewy winter/spring the seasons fighting for remembrance, radial sun burning with underlying plumes of lower barometric pressure, the air so crisp you could balance a teaspoon of custard on its breath.
And so slowly i slid through concrete shadows and excited deciduous cafe days .

I met up with Tim who was taking holidays from his mysterious career based in Tokyo. We had drinks at Darlo-bar then up to 3-weeds however i made a point of stopping by, Ariel.
I remembered a Venus in spurs and wanted very much to be in her presence again, to feel razor-wit and beauty .

And there she was, such eloquence and gloriana slung on a black bra strap.
If only only there was a male equivilent, if only i wasn't such a homosexual, if only so many things for what we most want can never be . And as bees fuck wildly amongst wet hibiscus i can only watch with my eyes closed.
The time fleeted by as our words exchanged, a scrawny dog sniffed about amongst books and floorboards and mentions of Pete and adelaide and the horrifying thought of sydney without spurs.

If for a moment i could imagine such a scenario would turn this world as i see it to nothing but a catacomb of dreams.

These dreams.....

After coffee at this german coffee house run by japanese people in the Queen Victoria building and window shopping at Ralph lauren, saw this fantastic suede fitted blazer, it would be so perfect .

However today, my nose wouldn't stop running, fortunately i didn't have alot of clients so i kept blowing my nose inbetween glove changes.

I want to redecorate my bedroom, make it more themed, less ecclectic and having my hair fixed because the layers have grown out but yuji is in Japan till 25th August.

Despite all this and what still is, nose running, i did manage to buy a wonderful Brioche loaf from next door.
Gorgeous buttery bread thing, french and fantastic with a chunk of jam and hot coffee.

I need new furniture.

Vivian Westwood belt, markings on skin care of fat vs skinny pants.

To think for the whole week i was feeling queasy, i thought it was the flu again, blocked sinuses, nausea, loss of appetite, loss of mojo, loss of interest in anything remotely fashionable, i knew something was serious.
However today, i managed to drag myself out to Latteria and after a serious caffine fix (their coffee seems to get stronger each time) and banana bread i head to blue spinach to check out some vintage clothes, that dior-homme jackets still there, $700 on discount but my fashion psychic connection was feeling something, somewhere else. I head over to White-picket fence , that cute guy was there, the one who sold me the grey jacket i’m wearin, “looks good on u “ he smiled, omg i nearly creamed my new calvin klein underwear, i just wanted to rip his scarf off and lick his caucasian tits but fashion comes first.
There were these two lesbians there, and it was like, i dunno, but what the fuck are u doing looking like a highschool boy?
As i was about to leave i eyed this rope thing , upon closer inspection it was a Vivian Westwood belt! My thighs had anglomania-precum oozing down.
I had to buy it.

I couldn’t contain my excitement and had to run into forbes and burton for a gin and tonic
“double?”
“yes, please tara, i’m over this detox business”

But i had to order food, it isn’t a bar, so i crumbled the apple and cinnimon friand outside whilst these yellow-eyed starlings pecked at it. I don’t like birds but for once i was grateful the friand looked used.

I ventured down to wall, thought abit of posing and another coffee was needed and stopped by a tobacconist .
My detox has truly ended but after a few good smokes i was feeling myself again, i was alive, the world was crystal clear with taste of hunger tripping on its edges.

I’m horny as a well-stroked rabbit, i may end up eating myself.

What's in your bag?

I've been immensly bored lately, haven't ventured to the cafes nor have i done any serious shopping but do i need more leather accessories?
I guess i could just blame the antartic weather or just laziness. I ate 2 bowls of pasta for lunch and just sat round in a carbo-induced state of lethargy.
I ought to clean out my wardrobe, do a stocktake to sober me up, i was thiking of buying a new laptop but i realised i have one already which i never use anymore.
Isn't that just so first world of me, i need to get a grip. Purchasing bodyshop products just doesn't do it for me anymore. On thursday i bought the new passionfruit scrub and honey conditioner only to find out whilst puting it away i already had tub of orange oil thai-body scrub and V0-bloody 5 hot oil in the linen cupboard. You can even become excessive in helping community trade.
I have my summer wardrobe ready, maybe an extra pair of jeans would be good however i may try cargo pants, the army type ones, not strictly army and not any other colour besides really-faded green.
It will be summer after all.
There's a pair i like by 'industry' but the logo is all over the pants and you know, wearing 'industry' aint something to write home about.
By the results of recent jean/pant experience i know i wont be able to fit into my 28inch waist army pants i use to slosh about in flip-flops and tight white shirt.
My life has gone up a size (or two).

I'm growing my hair long.

Anyway saturday wasn't too bad, the indian woman whom eyebrows i've permanently restructured is nearly finished, anymore and she'd look angry all the time.
One of our staff members still hasn't come back, she had a car accident apparently , so we bitched about that and ate hideously rich french pastries.

I might hit forbes and burton for lunch tomorrow actually, get back intouch with society.

I don't know about you but i've down sized my bags and such its contents. I haven't smoked (cos i haven't done the cafes much and it's winter so sitting outside has lost appeal) for weeks so i don't carry le smoking paraphinalia, shrunk my phone so now it just looks like i got a hard-on when in my pants so only thing i carry is diskman (i'm very old school) and scarf if it's cold and wallet in small shoulder bag. In summer i wont need a bag at all if i can find a new wallet that is smaller than the one i got now. The louis vuitton mini-coin/card/key pouch is cool, i guess i could do that but that means not carrying more than 2 notes and what about the organiser which i never write in?
Oh , i do need a bag to carry things after all.

I've become obsessed with 80s-90s australian trash dramas and with these rainy miserable days.

Chances and Return to eden.

However it is nice to see Sydney before year 2000.
The rows of metal coin parking meters, the sparce skyline, the sky even... there is no sky in the new Sydney.
There was a scene where a man gets out of the car dropping bottles of whiskey onto the roadside , ah the good old days.
Severe symetric-haircuts, shoulder pads, off-shoulder elastic gypsy tops but in matt-white, Jenny kee, those bloody Jenny Kee knits... like ken done on acid, like acid in general....

Why? i don't know... life is strange sometimes.

I've been chatting to my dear itallian friend sylvia lately, i miss her very much as we use to go clubbing and get pissed euro-style opposed to korean style with amy which is more sedate. Sylvia we go crazy and laugh, amy we burst into tears telling each other secrets and mumbling kim-chi receipes.

Sylvia likes brazillian cock.

So anyway i went and got my tax sorted, i paid less tax this year which means i get less back, i kind of feel dejected but then all this free time i've enjoyed lounging round cafes all day. There's always a price to pay.
The accountant was an accountant to the word, he even wore a school-blue wool vest and had this chin hair which barely skimmed his masculinity. I couldn't get horny with that guy even if i did a boxful of GBH.
However it's all done and that's one less thing to worry about.

Work has been alright, busy, not busy, busy , not busy etc... people.. hair.... needles... blunt pencils.

I'm waiting for my new dvd box sets to arrive so i can cocoon myself again , and i'm getting fat, i blame my belief that quitting smoking would be good for me.

You just get fat, it's happened before.

I went to bed rather early tonight , from what i recall 8pm as i was drifting in and out of consciousness.
Today was a very long day with3hrs doing miss perma-tan , an hour and half into the treatment consisting of polite banter and discussions about her pretty genitalia a strange smell started to waft . A sharp vintage with colourful resonance and a hint of spicy lemon preserved in a cheap glass jar.
"Oh, i'm so sorry, i think i'm having my period"

red faces all round.

Her well proportioned vulvalic doors wriggled like the nose of an overly active rabbit, dribbling some trail of sick.

"oh, *silence* i never knew periods looked like this" Innocently commented me.

And so my day was complete, i walked away feeling most overlayed with swathes of intrepidation whilst fingering my neck.
i say aloud to a staff member whos outwardly appearance could only be described as desicated.

"I think my glands are swollen"

She then hurriedly rifled through her chloe imitation handbag handing me 2 tic tacs.

I heard through the grapevine another girl had to go home because she caused such aromatic chaos after relieving wind silently.
I remember when another girl who literally exploded in the upstairs toilet. I thought L was joking until i went up there and saw the walls.
She never came back poor thing, yet she was one of the most nicest people to work with.
It's always the nicest ones.

I waited round chinatown to be picked up by my daddy, dear daddy, what would i do without your Honda?
Amongst the filth and european backpackers whos sperm infested mouths gape at the wonderment that is sydney and mainlanders shuffling round with third world affluence parking their baby strollers in the middle of the footpath causing traffic chaos.
One child is one too many .

I'm so glad i don't live in the city anymore, i can't stand these cretins.

I think fridays has become this mint tea-coffee-cranberry vodka day especially now John has all this free time, i have an explicit reason to have a drink. We plopped about at Wall then to gaslight for drinks inwhich a strange bloated-from-too-much alcohol homosexual in a cheap blue cableknit jumper put his hand on my shoulder and proclaimed "the girl at the bar is stronger than she looks" and gave sly winks whilst i drank and chatted to john.
Freak.

When tomorrows over i will be having a double anything, i've got a 3hr brazillian to do in the later half of the day with no public transport for me to get even more stressed out over.

New curtains, same old blinds.

I couldn't fit into a size 30 pair of Levi straight leg denim pants today .
And ofcourse they don't have 32 and i had to buy some other brand which by all means changed my idea of a faded denim summer to indigo.

My new american underwear arrived today, i adore wide elastic support and 100% brushed cotton despite the erratic customer service i'll buy some more later.
I also bought a mp3/video camera and old australian television programs now on dvd, same old , same old..

Last night i went out to normans 32 birthday, a family affair, infact it was very family, loud, crazy and too much alcohol. I polished off 2 bottles of red, i don't know how i did it but by the time i got home i was comatosed and woke up at 3am all fresh and ready to go.
Norman and i grew up together but when we hit 18 we grew apart even though he lives just one street away. Our familes entwined in that sentimantality that we deplore yet secretly peer through whilst running past the frames of existance.
We all have grown alot older, physically we've changed, new additions tacked on for security and then in the light of our understanding , we have never changed one bit.
Terry, Regent, winston, Ellina, Angela, Norman, Patrick...we have aged but the sunrise of our connection was still there.

"It's good to see you again" i proclaimed whilst we escaped nightshade after nightshade, these visions of our lives hauntingly familiar tugging at gossamer threads, invisble yet visible, fading and enchanting. My history, my life all that i have been trying to float away from.

All there.

Today i headed out to forbes and burton , try and get a grip of my own journey, i was quite shaken by what i had try to leave behind.

Gin and tonic, double in a tall glass thank you.

John joined me after the gym, then we headed to latteria to pose and be seen, a little boy was racing his tricycle along victoria street with an adult helmet on.
Joined by Nick and finally i got those two to meet.
We headed to darlo-bar for more drinks and amy joined us and the night was building to a crecendo, i sat back wobbling about after 2 vodkas, amy turned on her amy-ness and us gay-boys got our entertainment.
Drinks! darlings drinks!

I think i managed to get nick and john together, im much too old to take advantage of those two, i feel like a dirty-old man even the opportunity was always there but, friends last longer than one-night-fucks.

Me and my beautiful boys!

But this history i'm re-writing seems to lead me closer and closer to the history i had in the first place.

These shaken leaves are but flames on a well-known tree.

I've been lost in the vortex of EBAY and this, my space which i have yet to understand. Is it the new wave of hopeful-celebritism? I find it quite exposing and daunting to have so much of yourself up online, to think years ago 'blogging' was actually my divulging but now, i've become less interested in exposing myself.
Maybe it's age.

So anyway i went out to Moore park to look at curtains and ended up buying an electronic wine chiller.

Came home, cleaned blah blah, my life has been abit boring.

However i am excited 1) Pete is arriving in syd. in september 2) my new underpants ought to arrive in a week or so and it is so much cheaper buying from the united states. 3) nick is getting a mulberry bag , it's so big i could fit in it so i'd like to try when it arrives.

Please explain?

I;m having problems with my underwear, basically i need more support and less "movement".
Recently i had an embarrassing moment standing at the traffic lights waiting to cross a busy highway when my penis decided to get active. I had boxers on underneath a pair of relaxed pair of pants which meant well, there was no control and i had to run and sit down somewhere to let it pass.
Male version of a period cramp.
Boxers are great to wear round the house in summer.
I have a ton of underwear, mainly those tiny low-rise things and bikini-cut from the good-whore-days, but now with er, age i'm finding i need comfort more than seduction besides they can't seem to hold everything in anymore, it just spills out or pubic hair gets stuck in the elastic, eeeck!!.
This pair looked weird although i'm tempted to get this with it's 'butt-enhancing' pad but i don't want any embarrassing encounters.
Basically i've spent all night searching for a good pair of underpants that hold everything in place and keep it there.

So i just got back on the packed train on a sunday afternoon very pissed, to the point wher ei mistaken an emo teeneage girl for a guy. It's an easy mistake to make.

I went over to amys for late lunch to visit her lovely new pad in east-redfern "EAST, NOT THE NORMAL RED-FERRRRN" she screams down the phone.
Anyway after trekking up the main street i find it, it's nice, minimalist with big metal sliding shutters and intergrated living and kitchen area.
After gettin the vibe and opening all her cabinets i realise she has everything and i really don't know what to get her.
She even has Gucci cutlery.
So anyway after several bottles of white we settled down to some wonderful tibetean fried ricae and tempura she made fresh, the secrets in the iced-batter. It was fabulous.
Several glasses of white after we were kind of smashed, Amy fell asleep on the outdoor setting and i kept laughing at Lynn and her stories and tenzin sang to vintage micheal jackson.
"So, do you think he's a paedophile?" and we all ummed and ahhed before answering.. hahaha.
Dark chocoLAte and some more drinks and basically amy passed out so we headed home, me flapping about with flatheel converse i bought when i was going through the "street" phase, to get back to the roots, get real like J-lo but ended up sounding like a duck .

Lynes buying her a special rubbish bin.. hahaha.. i have to get my act together, something to go with their gorgeous and i mean GORGEOUS mongolian side table.

i got the flu again! ergh, so i'm abit low but loaded up with pseudopherine so i'm walking round like an egyptian.

Work has been hectic but that's ok, met up with eric the frenchman on thursday and we talked about fabulous united nations things and abit of bondage thrown in. His accent is to die for... to die for.
Then i popped into wall cafe for a quick coffee and skipped over to townhall for work stopping by kino. for a thick magazine purchase.

It's Tuesday night! work has been hectic lately and i've been going round looking for a housewarming gift for amy. I couldn't decide whether the blue or green Versace fruit bowl, Vera wang tea set or Louis vuitton picnic rug. So anyway i'm going over to amys this sunday for drinks and will decide which would fit in her new apt. If she's all for colour and using some woven palm leaf basket as a fruit bowl then i know what to get. They had a gorgeous white porcelin versace bowl with a raised medusa head on the bottom so u could see it through the soup!! fantastic!
But i already gave them cut-crystal for their wedding, it was a er.. bowl.. so i guess you can have too many ....bowls.

A george jensen thermos?

However i did find a fabulous etched glass carafe and huge hurricane lamp on sale and bought those for myself for when there's a hurricane or i could sit infront of a fan with a glass of red.

Lately i've been having disturbing dreams about myself in dramatic situations.

And i haven't had sex in ages and it's showing in my loss-of-zen when i encounter stupid obese people in the city walking in groups staring up at buildings.
STARE A LITTLE LONGER AND YOU MIGHT EAT A PIDGEON!!

Just aswell sex has quieten down though as my hamerroids have flared up, there i was so bored, trying to push part of my rectum back in only for it to pop back out like a jack in a box!
Oh well, i'll just have to wait till it settles down.

However, i will be having lunch with the delightful Eric the frenchman on thursday.

Maybe i need to not want what i haven't got.
Maybe alot of things.
I went over to Jamies before the meowmeow performance tonight, he cooked a delightful ginger/garlic oyster mushroom snow pea dish with rice. His place is 50's retro in a slightly niave way but cute never the less, his cat was fantastic though, a fat tabby with stripes across her body like shadows from swinging window blinds in spring.
It was an odd scene, there i was reading the newspaper throwing glass after glass of a semillon blanc which was slightly sticky and he, cooking away in the kitchen.
Sometimes i think he is trying to say something other than what he is actually saying.
This abstraction is confusing, i think we're confused.
But i do like his company i just miss having a more intense physical connection with someone, a gentle kiss on the lips "hello" and "goodbye" doesn't seem to go anywhere but i'm worried he might panic or runaway if i push for more.
I just want more.

There is the option of not doing anything, going along with no desire of diving further.

The emptiness drives me insane.

If anything i'm discovering new parts of me, conflicting, vunerable, merciless.

I try to look into his eyes, beyond what is present through to reflections of his heart but i can't see beyond the gentle kiss goodbye.

The performance by MeowMeow was quite good, however her intensity sometimes confused ones reaction, audience participation was rife and frightening, her diamnte bracelet fell onto my lap and she quipped "give that back soon, i don't trust you!"
Her more serious moments were breath-taking, the audience was caught inside her gaze and emotive cage, she was best when she took off her comic disguise.

I had lunch with Jamie, we met up again for lunch but this time i was protected by the belief that i am, no ones.
We talked about what has or has not happened during the week, i sensed a degree of fustration on his behalf, i was preoccupied by cigarettes (found at the back of a drawer) and staring into the distance.
"They're all the same, all the same....."
We had the lunch and like nothing had interrupted the time which slipped through our upturned eyelashes.
And then saturday came up.
He asked if i worked on saturday, he well knew i did, i proceeded to map out my itenerary, straight from work i will go to the QVB for some food (and bottle of Sake) then organise my self into opera-mode (change of outfit in the bathrooms there because they sooo pretty and have full length mirror) and jetisen down the opera house at 7, "meet you there."

"oh but i thought you could come round to my place, have a rest and i can cook dinner then go down to the performance"

You know when you fuck up when all of a sudden the illicit program you so comprehensively devised becomes a huge fuckin' X

fuck fuck fuck, i sooo fucked up.

However he did add, if i changed my mind i could text/call him during saturday.

"Dreams unwind, love is a state of mind"

I didn't show anything that would suggest aprehension he just smelt it through the plumes of my disguise.

Weekend was quiet, i got my crystal bits and been stringing them up for summer-neck-accesories, work was the usual, i had the moaner on saturday, she was quite vocal and i was feeling abit hung over so, it was a struggle.
Today i just cleaned my room and repotted some plants, all of my lily collection are gone, bleh, cost me a bit too but oh well but those stinky jonquils are popping up everywhere. Just took it easy, i've just been feeling low lately.
No news at all from Jamie, oh well, if i don't hear from him at all this week then i'll just not turn up at the opera house performance, i'm too old for pointless-ness and disappearing acts. Got dinner with Amy and fergus on friday night so that'll be fun and got to get back into the scene again, coffee, books,cigarillos and looking fantastic in skinny pants you know the deal.

I had a wonderful conversation with one of my indian clients on saturday, she lived in kenya for 10years and told me this recipe for henna hair dye. I love it when she wears her sari into the clinic. She just got her licence and i said 'revethi, you should race people at traffic lights" she just giggled.

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?

Sunday was so much fun at Lyns 56th birthday party. The woman looks 30 and considering all the plastic surgery she had, it's worth it! Nevermind the continuous smile and inability to frown.
We drank and drank and admired the view, her apartment is right on Rushcuttersbay, right on the water or as they say "Elizabeth bay, loop!!!"
Manage to catch up with tiffany and paul, the karate champion from chile... so exotic! and ate gorgeous tibetan food made by tenzin, amys husband and yes we both got elegantly smashed on black laquered empire chairs. At the end of the night lyn was dancing round on the velvet heartshaped sofa to Dusty springfield and amy was moving my arms like a puppet on a string (sorry Lulu) .
Amy kept going on about ice cream so we all bundled into the car, yes all of us.. 6 or more and headed to chinatown to Y2K icecream/pancakes which had the most abrupt service ever! so funny!
"CAN I NOW HAVE THE MENUS BACK!" the waitress demanded..!! hahaha... ohh and Yuiee's 20-ish white boyfriend.. who looked rather.. odd.. in cream cable knit.. kept calling me 'brother', 'yo, brother' ' right on' and asked if i went back to japan often and i said 2 years ago.. he'd never been so i explained "they speak english there, you wont have a problem getting round" .
Everyone in the car knew i'm not japanese..

mmm seaseme ice cream is very, very nice.

I'm Joan Crawford so FUCK OFF!!

I took lunch at Forbed and burton after having my hair cut by Yuji who gives one of the best head massages, i nearly fell asleep with my head tilted on the wash-basin.

I saw some rather lovely crystals , big, but i felt not quite powerful enough. A gorgeous quartz crystal necklace, beautiful. But then i got crystals already and i don't care what people say, they do give off an energy .

I had my psychic connection on thursday which was interesting. Apparently my aura is purple with gold around my head. Instantly i thought Elizabeth taylor! but then realised she's still alive.
Anyway i enjoyed my lunch at the Queen Vic. building, smoked chicken sandwiches on skewers and handmade gyoza before work in the city on thursday. Yes i'm working in the city on thursdays, can you imagine the havoc i will create, marching up the marble staircase in my heels and terrorising the perfume-boys at Myer.
"so what are the notes of this fragrance? "
"would you like a sample of our...." **with a wave of the hand and walking right past**

At Forbes and burton I had a wonderful handmade penne-twist pasta with pancetta and viniger-celery with a gin and tonic double in tall glass please!

I think tara forgot to use the mesuring cup and counted instead.

I was basically legless when i got home and nearly stepped on the neighbours cat sleeping on our drive way.

The temptation was to do a post mortem on my life thus far but i have refrained
These 12months have been quite good to me, can't complain despite the losses i have come to acknowlege and own my blessings and this is all i need to know at the end of the day.

I met up with brian today the gay irish beauty therapist. I don't know about you but i have rarely associated myself with effiminate men, this was abit of a departure.
I was a minor under-whelmed but then, lets not be too demanding and just appreciate what is infront of you.
If egg-shell is an approachable white then he was 10 shades out of contrast.

Work was ok, C. got new trash mags so we sat round reading through those. I finished the bette davis biog. and now will start on mommie dearest, joan crawford then 'i am a cat' by soseki natsume

And my folio has been accepted by Private magazine

Birthday Boy

Thursday 18/5/06

I'm thinking about a detox.

Had Long lunch with Amy at Wall cafe.

We discussed about aging and skin-health over coffee and drinks, diamond-dust dermabrasion (it's good for any age), gem stone therapy where u align sapphires, diamonds, rubies and emeralds to the chakras of the body, with a hand and foot massage.

She lost her cartier wedding ring whilst doing a body scrub.

I was in mild shock and needed a smoke.

We stopped by darlo-bar for drinks.. i had a lemonade, no, really.

I'm going to see a psychic next week, if you have any interesting questions i should ask, please feel free.

I'm so pishd i hope i can survive the weekend.
A routine long-lunch was unfolding till i invite amarni boy along to which words of "i got no money, so a coffee will do" echoed about, i overcourse heard no such thing and proceeded to have a few drinks over a very long lunch which included desert.

Then we went all over darlinghurst and paddington looking at clothes whilst doing a few pit stops along the way. A strange pub/bar with red velour and ad-hock sleaziness, if only they removed 'free drinks during footy' signs it would have had some character. It was just another pub.
Then down to Lounge for another 3 gin and tonics, i don't know.. i think i had 10 in all, 4 to start at forbes burton... Amy joined us and we hammed it up with our legendary fables, i was severely smashed because we only had G and T's with bombay sapphire! arghsdjsldj... i called deb but she wouldn't make it up our end till uber-late so i had to go.. i said darlings we have to go, tomorrow is a work day...for all of us!

i'm still pishd although slowly coming to.... oh and i have two big dinners to get through sturday and sunday.

Sunday 14/5/06

Half way there, Yesterday was a shocker. I arrive at work all fine and dandy , work all day because we're all booked then go home have snack then dinner with mum but when i got there i had to run to the city clinic at 12:30.
So on the bus with a huge red environ-friendly " i love to shop at gladesville shopping village" bag filled with needles and surface spray.
Lord.
And ofcourse the bus decides to go the long way and stop at every fuckin stop.
I eventually get there whilst running through QVB, Central plaza shopping halls.
I must have looked the crazed-weirdo-in-the-grey-jumper. So i get there and the client is waiting this short haired woman with manbeared. Oh great, 3hrs 2 machines and i know what's going to happen.
Managed to get a 20minute lunch break, screeched over to sushi-take-away "tuna, cooked"
"tuna? we have fresh"
"no, i want the cooked tinned one"
"no we have fresh only"
i mean.. it was silly so i pointed to one with an omlette wrapped in it.
I don't mind the city clinic but it's so small and cramped.
Anyway eventually it was over and i raced home got changed and tumbled into forbes and burton for dinner.
After a large gin and tonic we settled down to some very good, no.. exceptional quality food. Wow
i had the roast duck walnut salad with apples followed by roast pork belly (crackling included darling) on a bed of buttered lentils and cabbage.
It was morish i couldn't fit desert but oh.. the food! flavours clear and well balanced, effecient service, cute boys though abit dark to make it clear.. but effeciant service.
The food! my God.. if i wasn't so satanic i'd be bulemic.
I love , love, love the food at forbes and burton. Cost me an arm and two legs but it's worth it.
No, i'm worth it , god damn it.

But part of me is still trying to find a cheap, good quality place to eat. Now that's a challenge.

Work, domestics and a little drink.

Today i have to go into the city for work at 6pm, can u believe it, how ridiculous.
So to fill in the time i'll go to dendy and watch a movie , then dinner somewhere in the city, why doesn't Versace do food?
then work till 8pm and struggle home at peak hour in the freezing winters night.
I will definetly have to do forbes and burton with a double Gin and tonic tomorrow.

Andrews in tokyo and he bought me some new clothes, i gave him a budget of a thousand and he only managed to get me two shirts!!

Thursday 11/5/06

I watched Hidden today before heading into the city for 2hrs of work. It was an interesting movie about hidden camera video, hidden lives, hidden past and hidden social mistreatment.
But i found it too subtle for it's message, the insinuation of algerian community vs white french, racial malade, bitterness and fear. However it was nice to get back into dendy films.
Settled down at yama perched ontop of QVB, i quite like that place becasue it so well lit and you get huge servings. It's cafe japanese, not authentic and frankly if you want authentic then eat it in Japan.

Work was, well.. you know.
I had one of my regulars who is now going to the city because it was more convenient for him, oh well, so it wa snice to catch up and the progress is wonderful. And for some strange reason i've become involved in some scandal happening at work even though it has nothing to do with me so hopefully i've extricate dmyself with that.
I have no time to get anymore involved in petty, immature back stabbing.

i'm going to have a long lunch tomorrow.

If i was a woman, would you come inside me?

The thought kept pushing through my consciousness all day as i puffed away at wall cafe. There was a posse of emo kids, from what i overheard, overtly excited at this "cool find" so i circumcised a macanudo and blew it up.
coughs, tears and an asthma puffer jumped out of the kiddies black vinyl messenger bags
"fuck!! gotta move"
"no, no! it's the coolest spot"
"fuck!!! i can't breathe"

ROFL.. so i turned away thinking it would negate the fruity plumes away but the wind changed and blew back , right into their faces.

"can you move, your cigerette smoke is bad"

I took a deep draw contemplating creating a scene (i had just read a chapter of bette davis biog) i even contemplated moving but then i couldn't be bothered, it is public space so i turned to this gaggling of emo kids and said out loud (wasn't suppose to be, but it suddenly went quiet)
"i'm sorry"
puting on my pixie face
"but no".
And started to puff twice as hard releasing twice as much smoke, they ran inside.

Afterwards the dear bald headed owner who seems to give me strange-smily glances giggled as i apologized and thanked them for being so nice and not making a fuss
"thank you (with a wave of the hand) for being so fabulous. this is the most brilliant cafe. we need more cafes like this in sydney"

I don't know what came over me, i think bette davis has possessed me.

I love my old teal corderoy pants, they go so well with flat shoes, i never knew until today. Infact i realise how fortunatel i am, how lifes little revolutions put me in enviable positions and i, have taken it for granted. To be able to acknowlege this is in itself another circle within a circle.
These corderoy pants i bought 5 years ago and put away for they were too 'dowdy' but now seem perfect. It was meant to be, like most things in life, it was all meant to be.

i want to adopt a black baby and call him Adolf. and a chinese girl and call her Eva take them to Wall cafe and eat smoke salmon salad in my Hussien chalayan pants.

I'm dying my hair at the moment to a subtle brownish tinge.
It's been a hectic few days at work, i had one woman last night who looked as if she was about to give birth to her ovaries, rolling about, squirming in tears and letting out a squeal now and again. I just ignored her and continued my work till her hour was up.
I mean really.

And then there's the armani boy who is quite young (24), cute but too flakey . Even if it's going to be a bedder, they have to have some sort of integrity. But then young people are young.. so i just had to say "that's nice babe, i'll give u a call when i'm free" . Anyway i think i've had enough slutting around, there have been many more that i haven't blogged because they were more , routine, run of the mill.
After a while most cocks taste the same.
I've decided to be celibate for a while, having said that it may not be too long but i'll try and establish some sort of connection before hand, it had gotten to the point where words were dispensed before the pants.
It got abit empty.
Anyway, this week i do want to get into the bette davis biography, book table for mothers day (most probably Forbes and burton) and work out abit more.. more cardio.. but then the more i work out the more...aroused i become.
You can never win.


Thursday 4/may/o6

I think i'm bored again.
Had lunch at Forbes&burton, drank myself silly on gin and tonics with an interesting pasta dish. Anchovies and basil swirled into homemade pasta with a fistful of lemon juice, quite startling except for the bits of toasty crust sprinkled ontop. I guess they were trying to give the dish more texture but it wasn't necessary.
They have an interesting mix of customers, eastern suburbs matrons with a sprinkling of suit and tie set not low-key-cool as wall-cafe, not voltage-glam as the potts point crowd (pretentious is the word). It's a strange mix hovering over a question mark.
But atleast they serve good alcohol, i nearly died drinking a sauvaigon blanc at La bouvettes (whatever the shit is called) potts point with the amarni boy. It felt like it had been relieved out of a bladder.
I must remind myself to not date boys younger than me, the emptiness that comes out their new-thought patterns. Another boy i wanted to strangle.
Andrew pointed out when i was having lunch with him and joshua that i "looked like you wanted to murder him".
Young boys look nice but lack social skills and a level of intelligence which not to their fault can only come from time.

a.boy - " i love this new music, kind of machine sounds with rock sound"

me- "hmm industrial music, alternative goth"

a.boy- " and i love culture club and that whole 80's scene, would have been great to have lived through that, how was it?"

me- "yeah, it was great. thanks.


I might head to wall tomorrow and sit round and read and smoke and piss people off.

oh if i remember buy sake from this mysterious liquor store in chinatown amy was trying in vain to describe to me.

Met up with eric, the frenchman who's trying to draft up some constitution of internet ethics , darling.
We talked about art and concepts which we may collaborate on whilst graizing at forbes and burton. They've re-stocked on gin and er..we halved the stocks?

I didn't realise how powerful cigars have become a symbol of resistance.

I didn't realise breakfast juice is high in fibre which explains the results of my recent obsession for it.

Bought a delightful jersey day-jacket at white picket fence .

There is nothing quite like shopping and a gorgeous lunch.

The place is crawling with fashion week residue, australian fashion week, contradiction in terms.
I really cannot stand the recent t-shirt deconstructive dressing, it looks so meaningless. Cutting the collars out of K-mart shirts doesn't constitute fashion. Lack of creativity , most importantly creative support, has resulted in australian fashion being nothing but the toilet brush to european collections.

Can someone tell Morrisey, Tom ford has left Gucci years ago and is now desiging perfumes.

I don't know where to start when i was staring at the end.
Yesterday was andrews last supper as he has flown out to tokyo now and then london for several years. All our closest friends were there at JuJu's whooping it up as Joan crawford once said.
We drank sake like it was coming out the tap...hot and cold... i drank so much sake this morning my eyeballs were dehydrated.
It was sweet though.. all through this week it was sad goodbyes for him so to have a happy farewell was good.
We left soon after a bunch of drunk middle-aged americans started to sing karaoke, back to his place as a departure point/meeting point for it has been routine for years, we said our goodbyes to friends knowing it will never be the same again.
I hung round abit, he was going to austins to sleep before the airport tomorrow.. it was kind of awkward for us to say goodbye. We never really were emotive in our friendship.. we were just very good friends and i loved him as one because he wasn't afraid to be honest with every facet of his personality, no kid gloves just him and that i'm very grateful for.
When the car arrived we shook hands and laughed "cheers, it's been great, thanks alot" lol we quote so many people... as this was happening Deb messages me and i call her and had a brief but drunken converation.
As we were going down the terrace steps for a brief moment we recognised the emotional value that kept us close a realibilty and honesty that is so rare.
I ran out into the winters night and he into the safety of the yellow bathroom.

My mother is drunk and i''ve got the camera ready.

It's War veterans day and a wonderful way to celebrate is to have a toast or two in honor of our fallen comrades.

You can tell where i got my alcohlism from, it's my mothers fault, everythings goes back to mother.
So we open a bottle of vintage brandy, it looks inncoent enough in it's pretty purple packaging , brandy glasses anyone?

So after a few bottles mum and i decide to play dress up and we explored the new wave of dressing, pastels, horizontal lines.. street but colour! colour! clash it and burn... is a jade bracelet bling?

It's a fucking cold day and my fingers are frozen and my penis is lifeless i hate myself like cat powers but hey, i got to make my mother over.

i just woke up and it's 4pm. what goes up must come down as they say and i'm climbing out of a major downer.

Couldn't make it out to Latteria nor Lounge, just two steps away from my bed and two steps back. Thank god for vodka or i'd be a blabbering mess. I'm not an alcoholic, i'm not and alcoholic. i'm not an alcoholic, sometimes.

I got some great books from andrew.. Pierre Gilles books and joan crawford and bette davis biogs. plus janes mansfield who got scalped whilst going under a council truck.

I got my eye on this camera , i don't know if Leica will ever produce one of their own but considering it would be identical to this with a massive mark-up i think panansonic is the way to go.

If i drink one more glass of champagne i'll be pissing Krug darlings.

I think we put a slight dent in sydneys liquor stores when we did cases of champagne and wines and things... i emptied out my spending account hahahaha.. till the machine kept yelling out "TRANSACTION DECLINED" as i got tangled up in Amy's hair whilst waiting at the check-out.
"what? what? shit amy you need to brush your korean hair"

Surprised they didin't refuse to sell us anymore instead kept swiping our cards.
For a moment i felt embarrassed when 6 people behind us started to sing 'we are waiting...we are waiting'
And then i realised i had some cash.

So Andrews farewell kciked off slow... just 3 .. then round 9pm it got busy with people dropping by with fabulous vegetarian spring roll things wrapped in baby-soft rice noodles and gyoza dumplings encassing roast pumpkin. It was quite devine.
We drank like there was no tomorrow, Amy and i demostrated some yoga moves "amy, amy!! do corpse"
"what is thaaaat?" "handstand with one hand" "chant something...prada! versace! amarni!"
"no, no, say stella!"
"stella? who is stella?"

hahaha...

Today i had an 8am start to work and my life for a brief moment circumvent an apostrphy.

Easter is over and i'm desperate for a drink.
Infact i've contemplating a hip flask for winter so i can pour vodka into everything i drink.
With my lighter, cigarillo case, cutter and sunglasses i'm a walking accessory victim.
Whatever happened to 'down-sizing' my life?
I tried to go back onto the 'bargin-bandwagon' but left disappointed at DFO, that cattle-hall of a shopping complex. Everything was extra-large or extra-extra-extra-large. Am i feeling a little bit discrimminated against?
So i will endevour to find that cashmere wool jumper for winter tomorrow with utmost care not to go itallian-made but fustration could lead me straight to Gianni or Muicci.
Infact i remember some fabulous knitwear at david jones...mui mui or jil sandler....hmm.
Friday is farewell drinks for Andrew, but i have to work on saturday so... fuck! i can't get pissed big time. But i'll make sure the Verve,Boli,Moet flows freely.
So, tomorrow serious shopping, friday party (start 1pm till whenever), saturday work.
Oh and that rabbit turned out fucked! however i ate it anyway, was too tough but then it's never stopped me before.
My life is just one big poo that is about to creep out of the love tunnel.

Day after update.

I struggled through David Jones, all those racks of clothes but nothing in my size!! i was very stressed until i found some miu miu knitwear and to my delight a small size grey wool jumper. It was on sale so i got a massive discount, i just cannot go buying next season, it's this new money-consciousness. So i swallowed my pride and paid for a sale item.
It's miu miu though.
The crowds in the city were just too much , i wasn't in my 'dangerous' mode, just stressed out from shopping so i hopped into a cab and headed to forbes and burton to do lunch.
Gorgeous tiger prawn beansprout salad, crisp, fresh, subtle in flavour but still had 'wow' factor.
After downing several gin and tonics i hit white picket fence, nearly bough a vivian westwood jumper but ddin't i see that last time i was there???? victor and rolph very cute bomber jacket but too big.
After wandering round for a bit i managed to get into x and found a gun-metal Dior Homme wool knit jumper!!!! OMFG!!
I nearly juiced my anal track.
It fit!! so you know.. in a moment such as these one's senses are over-ridden with fashionism, so i dropped my budget out the window.

I didi pretty well today i think.

I am horribly drunk after two glasses of red, wine aint my thing. I don't normally drink wine but today i marinated the rabbit in it with bay leaves so hey, why leave the bottle half empty (or half full).
When i unwrapped the bugger from it's clingfilm coffin it looked kind of strange, then i had a peak inside and found a liver and what looks like lungs and some weird egg-shaped things so i pulled them out.
It felt so sexy pulling internal organs out of an animal.
What does that say about me?
So then i had to chop it into pieces so it can fit in the bowl and then i realised i've never cut an animal up before, how do you do it with bones in the way?
so i just chopped it with a cleaver and everything was ok.

Yesterday i helped gorgeous nori move firniture things to his apt. out west, 2hr drive on a freeway!!!
It was fun. then we did latteria back in civilization and was glamorous and fantastique with bits of the pink shagpile rug in my hair and face... weeeeee.
Nori is a wonderful boy with a not so wonderful boyfriend (looks like a piece of KFC and has the personality to match) but then i do admire him for what he is, a vet, and support him in everyway i can.
He's like the little brother i never had. awwwwwwww.
Then i got a message from the boy-with-the-beautiful-bottom saying why i haven't called him and he was sorry for falling asleep cos he was tired from clubbing and drinking the night before sounding all anxious and shit.

Me- "But, babe, you told me you never drink and never club, infact you told me you're not on the scene"
silence....
Me- "Let me tell you what, how about you go and play with your friends for a while and when i'm ready i'll let you know"

And i hung up.

I can be slightly abrupt especially to liars, however he did have a nice bottom.

Today was fun i cleaned my parents gravesite and burnt incense and spoke to relatives i have to have.

Easter fuck.

As you know my dear readers i'm not a person who kiss and tell however it's been a long time since i had a decent roll in the hay. All the previous have been...er..dud fucks or weirdos with folded tissues in their pants and one way back who had a glass-eye
"babe, i got to take my eye out so i can sleep"
"er, ok"
"do you have a glass of water for me to.."
"oh.. er.. my mother bought me these, it's czch crystal"

Geezus, that was awkward, he with a glass eye in his hand and me with a bohemia crystal tumbler in one hand.

Anyway, this bottom today well.
He promised a days worth of beach, sun, cruising round and sleep over. It ended up being some towels on his concrete balcony, he suddenly had a party to go to round 4pm. WTF????
I don't know but his face is one that could have been quite attractive when in highschool but you know, being thin isn't the only thing that makes you presentable.
I can't say he was good looking, his body was alright, not an adonis more like.. a failed olympic swimmer who fucked up his diet routine.
Thin but mis-aligned.
However like most Italians he had a thick cock and an uncontrollable urge to ejaculate at a few strokes.
His bottom was, well, beautiful.
It wasn't hairy, it had shape but hasn't fallen down,
I had a lot of fun south of the lighthouse but i think i might have gone too far when i felt his last meal.

His technique was..run of the mill...tried to be aggressive as i was.. i think he bit off my nipple.

After 4 hours he was spent and ..umm... fell asleep.
No, like..snoring type of sleep.
Now do i take that as a compliment or an insult?
With my experience with Italian men i have noticed they tend to fall asleep after sex and get quite sweaty.
Anyway 2 hrs later i got bored and aroused his member and blew him till he squirted like a can of shaken cola, darling.
This technique is best demonstrated by aggressively stimulating the penis whilst gripping the base of it, preventing ejaculation till he can't take it anymore, note colour of penis then u let it go and voila... he's a gusher.
He was quite exhausted, devastated, crumpled from my sexual prowess...MUAH HAHAHAHA.
er, not quite.

Tomorrow i'm helping gorgeous nori move furniture and visit his flat out west.

And so it is, easter is upon us with more chocolate for obese-people and their children. This year i'm avoiding the chocolate splurge because i keep seeing more fat people.....young and old. It's quite disturbing. I saw a fat school kid get caught in a sliding door, the doors just kept rebounding off him and his bug-eyes kept popping!!
no, i made that up.
I've finally found some old yoko ono cds in newtown.
It contains classics such as "greenfield morning i pushed an empty baby carriage all over the city", "touch me" and "paper shoes" inwhich she wails and buzzes like a cat on crack snorting a line of coke with a mosiquito.
Avante-guard?
She took traditional japanese kabuki-esque tones and folk music to a post-modern level. It still has resonance today regarding the free-form sounds of 'bjork' and 'indie-bands/indivduals' even though the eighties have been plundered beyond belief.
However, 2hrs of Madame Ono screeching is abit much.

dad- "what is this sound? could be the exhaust"

mum- no, exhaust pipe is new, brakes?

me- " um.... it's the cd"

dad-" ay-ya!!! it's broken!!"

i just stared out of the window.

Finally bought that books from kino. well i changed my mind actually and got 'BERLIN' 500 pages of 'after-the-war' and 'the purple journal', it makes granta whatever the UTS/University press look juvenile. Great articles, nice paper.
I was going to read all this over the easter long weekend, cook rabbit, read book, eat rabbit.
But like most things in my turd of a life, i get invited by M to go over to his place to "chill".
Should i take 500 pages of world war 2 and european angsty/social/political press to sunbake in tiny swimwear??
Or have sex for 48hrs?
It has been a while since i had a decent bottom to juice up.

Also i've been invited to some weird house warming by a couple i don't know and i have some art-essayist stalking me with 20page critique-emails of my photographs.

Haircut tomorrow and work!

i'm cooking a rabbit for easter.

I have just been told the outside chairs (milkcrates) have been removed from Wall cafe because some shit-head complained. This means there wont be anymore outdoor-coolness , nomore sunlit gorgeousness, nomore smoking!

I'm quite distressed.

And then i find a baby cockroach has drowned in my vodka and cranberry, i can't even kill it out of anger.

Atleast today i managed to do coffee and foccacia along victoria st. and meandered round halls of kinokuniya. I wanted to buy this amazing book "the occult of nazism" but it was $60 and well... i'm trying to be sensible with money.
I think i'll wait abit, forgot about the aqueous cream for winter.... it's the logical choice opposed to some gorgeous royal jelly honey creme from a french inspired boutique.
On friday there was a man asking people if they wanted their books signed, he asked me as i was walking out, i just turned to him and hissed "i don't think so".
It is then i noticed a television camera was recording the whole thing.

I've also been working out.. doing cardio which burns fat, something we can never have too much removed.
I'm seeing the results already however i must control my food intake, i managed a delightful advocado salad for sunday lunch (and lemon cream cake) but now i'm feeling a bit weak so had to do the microwave cheese macaroni. It's evil but a baby roach drowned in my cranberry and vodka so i need something to help me get over that.

My life is boring, i thought about joining a book club just to break it up.

I use to dance in heels but now i'm walking on flats.

No it's not a country western song but the new reality.

Today a female acquaintence squeezed my back and exclaimed "shit! you have more back-fat than me" .
She wasn't exactly thin.
So this afternoon started my cardio-exercise routine, an hour on the cross-trainer every other day, the other being gentle-weights to tone only.
I don't know what happened to that 28inch waistline, absurd but oh so enviable.
Anyway, i don't exactly want to be 28inches but happy with my 30-32 inch waistline but just more toned/healthier.

Can i be "healthy" and seething??? i don't want to become.. 'perky'.

i'd rather be obese.

After the cardio-work out i felt like death. I nearly fainted, i think i did if it wasn't for the Gin-vian.

Mind you i had 3 coffees for lunch.

I figured if you increase your heart rate it would burn more fat? no?

Drop an 'e' and go for 6 hrs on the cross trainer? hahahaha... funny.

Anyway i felt pretty dejected after the 'fat-grabbing' incident then a possible quickie had to go to the dentist, broke a tooth whilst eating a peanut (WTF???)

"babe, you're not much use after having your mouth butchered by the dentist".

note to self - please be less direct.

Ergh... i hate fat!

And abit of extra, here's a vid of Peter, Jan and mel at Pablos vice.


Play petr


May take a minute to load.

downtown-non-luxe

Ohhh blogger-widget. Forgot this was here.
So.. lets see... having survived 4 hrs in Ralph Lauren with my mother and 'modern-japanese' ontop of the Queen Victoria building i decided to not buy any winter clothes this year and try to work what i already own.
After auditing my wardrobe i realised i have clothes i've never worn or were too big at the time and...er hem...fit me now.
So this winter will be "downtown-non-luxe" utilising what one has... the army "che" look is back in so all i have to do is.. er wear jackets i wore 3 years ago. It's the same damn thing at the shops.
Or if one must, i will only do Second-hand (vintage is abit of a wank and op-shop is just too far down) such as CC's flashback and then rework the outfit. Recently i've finally got round to stitching fabric to my 'painted and torn jeans" and will endvour to stay at home and finish that damn army blazer.
This is the new me, a more subtle and non-plus, an innocence amongst thieves.

i will however make some converse/Vans purchases.

Oh, and i might aswell share this with you, i have BACK-FAT and it's distressing and traumatic.

No more ...er... cakes...alcohol.....french pastries....

It's been quite hectic lately with work picking up and schedualed lunches. My world has inverted itself like a succulent mango in summertime.
Watched Aeon flux, that action/sci-fi movie with message of 'don't clone or you might gets something spooky back with you" but all this enfant-aqua amongst jittery pixelism. I enjoyed watching Charlieze theron crack several masculine necks with her svelte thighs, backflipped and ran through exploding walls with perfect moving hair. It was all about the hair.
Work has been, and who is one to argue having been doing being. Client H. who's going to brazil in a few weeks time explained to me what a 'bunda' is

h- yer.. so in brazil ..the women.. they're built differently

me- hmm... they have two heads?

h- nah mate.. they got bunda

me- yer, that's great... how are u going with the pain?

h- it's alright mate, dunno what this foot tapping shit's about..can't stop...

me- it's just your body trying to divert pain messages, perfectly normal.

.......

me- bunda?

h- yer...

me-bunda?

h-yer..

me- bunda?

h- yer..mate...

me- bunda? is that like gucci but from south america?

h- what? gooffey? he's american aint he?

me- bunda.

h- oh yer.. nice... big round bundas..

me- breasts?

h- nah mate, arse. beautiful arse.

me- oh.

silence.

h- yer.......

me - well you know nothing like some poop shoot action.
Ok, times up.

I bought a fabulous pair of black jeans, not too fitting, just slim-enough cut to suggest rocker but not so thin it screams chicken-legs.

And i adore WWD SCOOP , it's the 'retail' branch of Womens Wear Daily with its pictures of sofia coppola and marc jacobs boogie-woogie-ing, fat and old and sweating. Gorgeous Kate moss as a hologram at Alexander mcqueens latest collection. Also i'm obsessing 'CRASH' magazine, fashion in a portable but dignified format with fantastic interviews with heidi silmane and veronique barinquo in french!!!
Can't read the shit but who cares when it's the size of a local phone directory but in high gloss poster-paper.
Had lunch at burton and forbes, fresh sea scallops on a bed of gently braised cabbage with wild mustard seeds. So, delicate and sweet, one could have my tastebuds arrested for lewd conduct.

GOATS CHEESE is my new food and i'm getting intouch with my spiritual side, i'm wearing amathyst and aligning myself with the mystic jews, more hasidic orthodox than hollywood kaballa.

It's all about the hat, the hair and the gorgeous coat.

In the myth, Psyche is a beautiful princess of whom the goddess Venus is jealous. In her rage she orders her son cupid to make Psyche fall in love with a monster, but Cupid falls in love with her himself.
After several trials Cupid and Psyche make their plea to the gods who turn Psyche into an immortal and allow them to be married in heaven.

Flotis detox.

Exercise - Clean room plus vaccum.

Food - Custard tarts and Lady grey tea.

Meditation - Lounging in relaxed clothing with Men's non+no and British Vogue.

Indulge - Chocolate peanut clusters.

Rehydrate - Several glasses of chilled Evian whilst listening to Edith piaf.

Bath - WildOat milk bath.

I don't want what i haven't got except for another glass of vodka.


I finally found where fergus lives, it's this street with a train line through the middle of it. If only someone told me it was right next to woolomolloo wharf then it would have been so much easier.
So we got there when the party was in full swing glasses of champagne came fast and when that ran out.. triple vodka cranberry things and martinis and cosmopolitans and things... it was fabulous.
We talked, we threw our heads back in laughter and introduced ourselves to each other.
Amy came over later and thats when the vodka shots started. No one told me to use shot glasses so i just used the normal drinking glasses.
You know what's weird, i don't get drunk with vodka, i mean i do feel abit of an effect but i wasn't plastered or running to the bathroom every 5 minutes unlike one dear uni-girly who was in the bathroom from 3pm till 10pm.. poor thing. Bet she lost a few kilos.
It was a lovely night filled with interesting people, one guy kept touching my arms saying how smooth they were, abit creepy.
but then, touch all you want darlings just pour me another vodka.

Have a look at MIU MIU new campaign, musings of MiuMiu prada and lots of strange photos of Kim bassinger.

And PRADA for their short film by Ridley scott whos daughter (????) is the muse and model.

It's becoming more than the thinking persons couture.

This scottish guy thing seems to have opened up a box of emotions which i never thought i would find myself experiencing.
He did say he wasn't after anything serious...friendship/fun casual-lifestyle appropriate relationship.
So i thought, well why not, everyone else is doing it and maybe the clinical dispensing of relationship catagories have been the reason why i've been single for 2 fucken years.
Single as in having relationship for more than three months. By that time you ought to have sussed each others embarrassing habits and organised some sort of schedual together in a gorgeous louis vuitton goat skin diary.
So i thought i could be ruthless, plutonic, non-emotive in my friendship and physical interaction but for some weird reason i can't treat another human being as an object for sex and 'friendship'.
They have to be exclusive.
Although i had a giggle at my 'sexual encounter' with the scotsman i actually felt very empty inside because i didn't feel anything for him when we had sex or even when we kissed. It seemed like we were in some movie sequence where both actors are nervous and put on their acting faces, part themselves part another.
I realised i can't do 'casual-relationships' where you actually talk to them and share laughs and care about them then have sex with them without having any emotive attachment or scruples.
It's not a question of what is wrong or right but what the individual values and respecting that fact.
I'm better off single and not puting out any emotions.

I know it hasn't been that long since the last post but i'm feeling abit charitable.

The week has been abit of a blur with that date on wednesday with a scottish guy who i met again on saturday night after work for dinner and drinks.
One thing that did annoy me was the fact he wore flip-flops after 4pm which he had to change for later because you cannot go into a bar with open toe shoes (so they say). I forgave his faux-pas purely on the fact he is scottish.
So dinner was nice, thai, then drinks at newtown hotel. The place was busy with an ecclectic mix of patrons. One would like to express bohemian and hippie chic but honestly it was... over 40s drug-dried couples and fattys and arty-angsty-gay types.
The ripped vinyl sofa is not vintage.
So we slid down onto the back area next to this art student boy who was sketching squiggly shit with a biro and his folio bag strewn on the floor.
Now as you know, i'm one for art and it's postering, infact i once called myself an artist and still do so at certain occasions however you do not take your folio to a pub on a saturday night sit in a corner and squiggle highschool-pentip drawings!!!!

Get out of my way!!!!

We bitched and giggled, the drag act on stage....

date- he's only miming

me- it's a drag act, they mime.

date- that's so boring, in glasgow they sing

me- well welcome to oz, that toto don't sing!!

My mobile phone kept slipping out and i knocked a fat girls glass of wine, hey!! she was in my way .
Can't stand fat girls who wear rice-paper thin tops hanging round gay pubs complaining they can't find a decent man in sydney.

They ought to be persecuted by an army of Karl largerfelds !!!!

Anyway, so the evening was down the hatch a couple of beers , poor boy had to work 6am in the morning and tim and andrew were beeping me to go over at 11:30 for yet more drinks. i was pissed at 11pm and had to make a swift move back to his place if i was to get any action.
Hell i didn't spend all of my saturday evening without even a shag God damn it.

So... with jazz music on .. and getting close on the squishy sofa we got into it.
In the midst of kissing, biting, scratching and being 'oh so savage' i got to the part where i take off his underpants.
Clean white calvins....nice... rather large folded bulge... keep it coming... and then when i slid his underpants off there was
a piece of folded tissue stuck to his left testical.

Hm.

I'm trying not to laugh or look or make a big deal of it.. so i take my underpants off and climb ontop of him and with one flick of the wrist (one of many that night) the tissue came off so proceeded the act of coitus etc.
He was big in a wide way and seemed quite adept at using his mouth and tongue in the right places. All in all it went well except he couldn't hold it for too long, as you know i prefer to have sex for atleast 2hrs, he just couldn't wait and expelled his semen.
It ended right on 11:30 !!! i was just warming up.
He cuddled me and was all.. i don't know.. u know.. he had this weird look in his eyes.. like his eyes were glazed with blackberry sauce..i don't know. He put on this weird happy/love song stuff on .
I couldn't help wonder why he had a tissue in his underpants.
Maybe i'm just shallow and lack any sensitive emotional stuff or that i'm just a first rate bitch.

The latter in Prada shades
.
So went over to andrews, met up with an assortment of strange people drank some more and somehow did latteria today but with big sunglasses and saying very little.