in a week back in Sydney i made what i would make a month in melbourne. i left so quickly without saying goodbye to a few people so i decided to fly back for the weekend. that, and Trough X was on
the taxi ride in to the city from the airport, with a burnt orange sun setting behind Melbourne's nondescript city scape that could pass for nearly any city in the world, i was once again excited to be here. The Irish Elk had moved into my old room in the share house until it was due to get demolished in a few weeks. i didn't tell anyone i was coming except him. the look on the former flatmates faces was gorgeous. they're always gorgeous of course, especially when they're staggering around the back yard a little drunk. half holding hands and half leaning on each other in order to stay upright.
it sucks. why can't we relocate the whole house to Sydney?
beers at the Laird then some underground light painting with Murdoch and Elk. where i didn't listen listen to anyone's advice and while spinning fire i successfully burned a hole in my shoulder.
no photoshop involved (except to lighten the image)
the bright spot in my shoulder is hot metal burning a hole into my skin
the bright spot in my shoulder is hot metal burning a hole into my skin
(the scar looks damn sexy, by the way...)
4am we get back home. i'm sleeping in Elk's bed. my old bed. the was a couple of used rubbers on the floor. seeing them felt… weird. i made a joke out of it instead. we crawl into bed. i think i should keep my distance but what would be the point of that? i wrap my arms around him and pull his little body into my chest
Saturday i got to catch up with my personal shopper. it was good to see him and be happy for a change. nothing to whinge about. kick ass coffee in my favourite little over-cramped cafe before a little bit of shopping. i just bought summer clothes. beach clothes. why? because i fucking live in Sydney now and i can go to the beach any fucking time i want!
i sniff around the MacBooks in one store. i get offered a discount, a couple of hundred dollars off, and consider it for a bit. for me to buy. not my shopper. of course it would be great if he got it, but i'm not expecting that.
"wouldn't you want to spend the money of something else?" my shopper asks
"yeah i guess you're right. i don't really need it right now."
"put it on that amazon wish list you're gonna make for me."
i nod and we walk off for a bit. "hang on. did you just talk me out of buying something?"
i race home. get drunk and head to Trough X
Trough X is the best homo party in Melbourne. therefore, the best party in Melbourne. held in the basement of Club 80, a room full of empty metal drums and sling rooms full of steamy hot men dancing to steamy hard music. or like me, since i don't dance, getting steaming drunk. it was awesome. i don't remember too much except running into a lot of good mates i hadn't seen in a while. watching my old flatmate Giles who keeps the sound in order long into the party, a little fucked up and standing at various points around the rooms, scratching his chin. is the sound right? a nod of the head. wait… no? he slides between the writhing sea of shirtless hairy men to twiddle some knobs at the speakers. checking again. another fiddle. then a nod. ears working deep into the night long after his eyes can barely hold themselves open. a true master of sound.
it's a great mix of sleazy and friendly. random guys coming up and groping your ass or pulling you in for a passing snog. it's great. a few guys would come up and snog the Elk and my mind would stagger a bit
what? what's your problem, boy? what are you thinking?
being held in a 4 story sex joint means you can stumble around all levels of the building and bound to find what you want rubbing itself in a dimly lit corner. i didn't find anything. i think i already found what i want
the boozing and the party went on well into the night. one by one the eyes of various friends would start rolling into the back of their heads, cocks would be getting waved around and shoved into the people's drinks when they weren't looking… okay, so maybe that was just my mates…
a text message woke me up early the next morning with my arms holding the Elk by his scruffy neck in a loose sweaty headlock. the phone slipping from my sweaty hand. i got time to read it before it fell to the floor. "holy fuck!!!" i choked
"umpf?" Elk mumbled in to my armpit
i showed him the text. it was from my personal shopper. "i got you your macbook. let's meet up for coffee later today and you can pick it up."
Sunday's catch up with was Maria. she is another reason i moved to Melbourne. surviving a painful break up she is now on her own, living with friends and a shitload happier. she is now mustering up the courage to chat up guys in a bar. so far, despite how much she has to drink to gather up that courage, shed is still unsuccessful
"so. hey. how you doing?"
"yeah. good you?"
"yeah."
(silence)
(more silence)
"well. i guess that's it. so… yeah."
"ok. bye."
that's about her most successful pick-up attempt so far. huge step for a girl who was an incredibly shy introvert who would not talk to anyone. she was now jogging. not smoking. but jogging, with her long black dyed hair and facial piercings blowing in the breeze. a few minutes was too long in a sports store for either of us so we stumbled to the bar across the road and knocked back a few pear ciders as the sun peered through the clouds
i met my shopper up the road. just then a few mates from the party last night drove up, waving to me just i accepting expensive computer equipment from a strange man they've never seen on a street corner. i waved back with a big grin "hi!"
we grabbed a coffee and i couldn't thank him enough. i didn't know what to say. so i just kept saying 'thank you'
one more sleep with the Irish Elk then one last catch up with the ex-wife. yes. ex-wife. incredible woman. why can't she be around more? breakfast and then she drove me in air-conditioned hybrid car comfort to the airport
a fucking kick-ass send off from Melbourne. that snooty little hipster bitch finally came good in the end. and, yes, i still love her, she still has a heart of gold but i just can't be with her and her insecurities. hopefully one day when she gets over that and loves herself for who she is, instead of trying to compare herself to others. she's a great gal deep down
Sydney, Melbourne's slutty older sister, barely had time to close her filthy sore infested thighs before i returned home. i jumped refreshed back into to work, back into whoring, back into some writing and design. and of course, banging all the new hot men that have come to town. well, i tried to… but i'd find myself staring out the window or shutting my eyes thinking of somebody else… it just wasn't as much fun as it should've been…
what? WHAT!?! oh, jesus fucking christ, what's wrong with you now!?! you miserable fucking hooker! aren't you happy yet?
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