A tangle of legs

wet noses softly snoring

dreams of open fields


What exactly is the key to it.  By ‘it’ of course I mean everything in the Universe.  If only I knew, I could bottle it and become a magillionaire, infinitely more excellent than simply a millionaire.

At least not for February.  I’d been reflecting on my Summer of beer for a few weeks now and feeling a bit lardy about the whole affair.  So when I read about Feb Fast, giving up the booze during the shortest month of the year for charity, I thought ‘I can do that!’.  Hence on the weekend I gave the beers one last nudge for good measure.  Even though it was blisteringly hot I couldn’t finish my third beer and instead tipped it down the sink.  I think my body was saying no well before my head.  And today my head is screaming, just in case I couldn’t work it all out for myself!

In an instant kind of fashion too.  Most of the time I LOVE being connected to the immediacy of my friend’s lives all over the world.  Most of the time, except for now.  I have a friend who is a very successful businessman in the fash business and who also has an award winning cabaret singing career.  He lives on the East Coast of the USA and just went to order pizza locally.  He went to a place he has frequented often in the neighbourhood, where he has made his home over many years of living there.  He was just gay bashed and I feel sick.

Sick that somebody felt they had the right to do this.  That they had a right to do it to him, when all he did was order pizza.  What’s wrong with you people??  It’s 2010 for christ’s sake!!  It’s the cusp of our annual gay pride here in Melbourne as well as (finally) being the era of same sex law reform here in Australia .  I feel too sick to keep typing, but, Kevin, know that I’m sending you the most tender of hugs and kissing the bruises and pain away my sweet.  Stand proud, I sure as hell am proud to know you.  Thugs will always be thugs, but you will always be fabulous.  The best revenge!

I’ve done a lot of things in my life.  Many of them catching others by surprise, and sometimes even myself.  So as I find myself on the cusp of yet more major change, one thing I am pleased about is that I never just woke up one day and thought, ‘I know!  I really need to get me some dreads today!!’. 

I think my Mum is prolly quite pleased about that too, just quietly….

Not me, my car.  When you regularly leave work at an hour where your car has no mates, it’s time to go into the room of mirrors….

The hard way, I might add.  This is where I spent about 85% of my childhood, this exact trampoline.  And over thirty years later it still stands in my parent’s back yard.  I remember when we first got it, Dad drummed in to us that we could not exceed the maximum weight capacity it could hold.  I could barely count to five or tie my shoes let alone add up but that did not stop me quizzing everyone who wanted to have a jump on how much they weighed.  It went, “I weigh three stone, how much to you weigh?” –  cue piercing, accusatory stare.  Nowadays I think my handbag is the only thing that weighs three stone! 

One Christmas a few years ago that I remember fondly involved many hours on there with my youngest niece teaching her the finer points of double bouncing and also doing multiple hip-swivel manoeuvres.  So the following year when I trekked home for Christmas I wasn’t surprised to find her waiting for me on the tramp (as us cool kids called it).  I didn’t stay on it long, and had been in the door even less time, but some hours later I couldn’t move.  At all.  Something  in my back had zigged when it should have zagged and now I had pinched a nerve.  The three hundred bucks it cost me to fix it taught me a very valuable lesson; I am too old for this shit anymore.  And so this past Christmas the closest I got to the tramp was this photo.