Big Blue

Go on, just keep walking straight into the big blue, keep on walking until one day it just takes you.

It’s not like you can say that I didn’t try, I just got so good at living the lie. Just let me go.

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No One To Tell

Get your face out of that fucking screen and just take a look at me!

I’m so sick of talking to you through hazy eyes, screens and cryptic melodies.

Will this be a lifetime or is this just a phase of mine?

Everyday I’m praying and hoping because baby I’m not really coping.

I’m so sick of talking to you through hazy eyes, screens and cryptic melodies.

No one to talk to, no one to tell. This is my everyday secret god damn hell.

It wasn’t meant to be like this, not so soon anyway but I can’t stop, I just can’t stop.

Anaïs & The Naked Man

Smoking-in-Bed2

Chapter 2-

Anaïs had been sitting in her favourite cafè in the Latin Quarter sipping on long blacks all day, smoking her Gigantes and writing the fifth chapter of her novel when she heard a commotion outside the cafè. She peered up from her notebook while taking a long drag on her Gitante, she couldn’t see much but a crowd gathered outside and a few women screaming- ‘some celebrity’ she thought to herself and continued to write. After five minutes she could hear the sound of sirens getting closer and closer, she peered up again and the crowd had grown. How was anybody meant to concentrate if there was all this noise going on outside she thought to herself. 

Anaïs had moved from the countryside of France to Paris only a few months before to make a living as an artist, a writer to be precise. So far the only work she had managed to get were a few book reviews in the local newspaper, but that had fallen through after she had reffered to one of the books as “less than the paper I wipe my shit with.’ The newspaper had been paid to promote the book. Her breakthrough, she knew would be her novel. She was twenty and determined to make it in the world of famous novelists, artists and poets and the Latin Quarter seemed to be the place to be. Being an orphan, a result of the German invasion into France meant that she had not much to loose, not much to miss and a will to prove everyone wrong. 

The sirens grew louder and louder, she couldn’t take it anymore, picked up her notebook and slammed down 5F for her afternoon of coffees. She walked outside and pushed through the crowd of screaming women and disgusted men when she reached the centre of the crowd she saw a man, a skinny, tall man, naked and sopping wet. The first thing she noticed was his giant erect penis, unlike to the disgust of the crowd, she quite liked the sight of it. The man, clearly drunk, whisky bottle in one had was singing in French, she couldn’t quite make out what he was saying but never the less it sounded poetic. Anaïs’ irritation slowly turned to amusement, and a smirk appeared across her face. One of the women yelled out in French “les policiers sont sur ​​leur chemin!” (the police are on their way!). Having a deep hatred for any type authority, probably because of her experiences with the Nazi’s Anaïs smiled and pushed the women out of the way, she knelt down in front of the man and offered him her cigarette, he looked up at her “Comment tu t’appelle?” “Anaïs”. Anaïs lifted him over her shoulder, erect dick and all, to the disgust of all the women, she heard all kinds of things; ‘Do you know him?” “Is this your husband?” “Don’t touch him darling, he could be diseased.” She smiled and looked at them all “this is my father, I am so sorry, we must go”. This explanation could have passed quite easily as the man looked and was about twice her age, but of course he was not her father, she had never seen him before in her life. He was not conventionally handsome, he had stubble, not a beard but a good amount of stubble, he was quite dishevelled looking, he stunk of cigarettes and alcohol but Anaïs was drawn to him, perhaps because she could tell he was an artist of some kind as normal people did not act like this. She dragged him away as the sirens drew nearer, he was still singing out in French, however, now that they were away from the crowd she could make out more of the lyrics he was signing, he kept singing about a woman named Laurà and an unborn daughter. Anaïs could hear the pain in his words so decided to bring him back to her apartment to sober up. After the difficult, but quite humorous walk up the six flights of stairs, Anaïs threw him on the couch and laid a blanket over his naked body, his erection had since subsided. She went to make some coffee and filled a bucket full of cold water. After ten minutes she returned to find the stranger asleep on the couch, she would have left him there until he woke but her curiosity got the better of her and she threw the cold water over him. The man shot up and yelled out all kinds of profanities in English, French and what she thought sounded like Spanish but she couldn’t be sure. After the shock had warn off, she handed him a towel and a cup of black coffee, they took silent sips while starring at each other. “And how did I get here?” he finally asked. Anaïs laughed and explained the last two hours to him, it took her a good while as she couldn’t stop laughing in between parts of the story. The man did not laugh, he seemed quite serious about the entire thing until she threw another towel at him and told him to “loosen up, I just saved you from a night in jail!” The stranger finally smiled and said “My name is Lucien.” “And who is Lucien?” Anaïs asked while perched on the sofa sipping her coffee and smoking her Gigante. “I am….” he paused “I am a musician, but I consider myself more of a poet I suppose, and you? Some kind of fruit shop girl or house wife?” Most women would have been either truly satisfied with this question or deeply offended, however, Anaïs knew that he was being a smart-ass drunk and wouldn’t give him the pleasure of a reaction but inside felt slightly offended. “No, I am a writer” Lucien smiled, “a writer, how impressive” there was slight pause, and Anaïs burst out laughing, she almost fell off the sofa and burnt a hole in the upholstery with her cigarette. “What?” asked Lucien who immediately checked his penis to make sure it wasn’t erect again, he found Anaïs extremely sexy so it was more than possible, but no. “What?!” he demanded, a little annoyed. “I…hahaha..I work….hahaha….when I don’t write, I work in a fruit shop..hahaha!” Lucien broke out into laughter too, the two laughed so hard that Lucien had to run to the bathroom, he was full of whiskey. When he came out of the bathroom, Anaïs had put on her favourite Gainsbourg record, had poured herself a whiskey, and lit another Gigante, she swayed from right to left, her long straight brown hair swayed and brushed across her bum with every movement. Lucien stood hypnotised for a while, before walking over to her, he still only had a towel around his waist. He walked up behind her, she didn’t react, she just took another drag, he leaned over and reached for her Gigantes on the table she was leaning against, his bare chest brushed up against her arm, his erect nipple gliding over her soft skin. He lowered himself so that his mouth was right next to her ear, placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit the match so close to her ear that the heat from the flame softly burnt her neck, she liked it. She swayed to the music, Lucien ran his fingers through her long hair over and over again, he leaned into her and swayed with her to the music, his erection was back but Anaïs wasn’t amused anymore, she was insanely turned on. She could hear every puff he took of his cigarette, until the ash got too long and he tapped it into her cleavage, it burned her but she liked that too. He began to run his hands down her waist and over her shoulders, he bit her right shoulder, as he slipped down the thin strap of her dress and then the left until her breasts were completely on show. She had been facing a window the entire time and had noticed her neighbour watching her, it turned her on even more to know how much he envied Lucien at this point and how much he wanted to taste her too, but couldn’t, she smiled at him as Lucien touched her all over. He reeked of whiskey and cigarettes, just the way she liked her men. He ran his hands down her outer thighs and lifted her dress just above her bum, her long hair brushing over her skin, he pulled down her knickers until they hit the floor and removed his towel, instant ecstasy. 

After hours of love making all the while the neighbour watching, they lay naked wrapped up in sheets smoking cigarettes. “Can you play me a song?” Anaïs asked Lucien pointing to her piano. “Only if you’ll sing for me” he replied. They spent around three days in the apartment drinking, smoking, singing, dancing and making love all over the apartment, including on the piano. It was the best few days, that goes for the neighbour too. Anaïs never did find out why Lucien was naked in the street that day, she never asked, it made him more mysterious that way.

And that is how Lucien and Anaïs fell madly in love and came up with their first hit song- ‘El Loco Desnudo’ (Spanish for ‘The Naked Mad Man’).
They were inseparable.

 

Chapter 1- Lucien and Laurá

The dim red lights from the tables below the stage cast reddish shadows on the pianists face, it made him look even madder than he was. He swayed to the tune he played and sung in French, the words slightly slurred, it didn’t matter though, he still sounded brilliant. The music people loved, the lyrics they admired and the singing, although wasn’t brilliant still had conviction, depth and feeling. His music wasn’t about how well his voice sounded, but the brilliance of his words. they cut deep as he sung about infidelity, sex and alcoholism, the fact that he was drunk made the show and him all the more intoxicating. 

The club was the best unknown club in all of Paris, it was underground and there was nothing mainstream about it, musicians from all over Europe flocked there to perform but none quite captured the audiences attention like he did. The other musicians sang about love and lost love, they were all too scared to break out of the expectations and push the boundaries of the still very censored 1950’s. 

He had finished the song just as he had finished his cigarette, he lit another and the audience cheered for more, he got up and walked off stage, he wouldn’t give them such satisfaction. Lucien loved the admiration, he loved how the begged for more and he love the smell of fame.

Lucien put on his coat and scarf, picked up his flask of scotch and lit another cigarette as he walked outside into the cold winters night. He took a swig from the flask and began his journey through Paris to his apartment a few kilometres away, he hated going home, going home to his wife who would be asleep, no more life in here. Laurá and Lucien met in passionate circumstances, in a town outside of Florence, they fell instantly in love and lust and fucked everywhere they could in Italy, rumour has it they even made love in the Sistine Chapel or so he claims. After three years of mad Bohemian adventures through Italy, where Lucien busked and made a name for himself as a musician, Laurá painted and sold her artwork to local shops and bars. They lived a life that was full of sex, intellect and passion, they would have twelve hour conversations, get into made fights and then make love for two days straight, not once leaving the house, not even to eat. The fun and passion ended soon after Laurá fell pregnant with their first child who tragically died during child birth, Laurá was never the same, her light had been extinguished and she no longer painted or had any passion inside of her. Rather than being understanding and supporting his young wife through her grief, Lucien drank and had affairs that would last for days or even weeks with his adoring female fans.

Lucien stumbled up the stair cases of his apartment, until he reached the front door of the apartment he loathed so much, he felt as if it were a prison, it had stolen his freedom, his nomadic ways and his ability to go and travel the world. He opened the door and apartment was silent, all he could hear was the ticking of his grandfather clock, the silence killed him. Where was she? His Laurá who a year ago would have been dancing naked to one of his records, while sipping wine and smoking all of his cigarettes. ‘Laurá…où ês-tu!?’ he yells out as he trips on his music stand. ‘Laurá!’ 

Silence. He walks down the hall way, past the walls once covered in her paintings, that now lay bare. He reaches their bedroom and slams the door open, I said ‘where are y-?’, Laurá is not there, all that lies in her place is a note that reads ‘je t’aime mon chéri. Laurá x’. 

The next week Laurá files for divorce, Lucien signs. 

To be continued…..

 Image

How it All Began

Her foot bounces up and down very quickly, she hits ‘refresh’ on her emails, nothing. What the hell is taking him so long to reply she thinks, refresh, nothing. Her heart is beating very quickly, her desk phone rings, ‘Hello Unistar Global, Geroga speaking’ she rolls her eyes, ugh it’s that idiot from accounts in the QLD office. She is always calling at the worst of times she thinks. Her email lights up, it’s him, a shot of adrenaline surges through her body like an electric shock. ‘Look, sorry Margaret, I have to go, I have about four other phone calls on hold’ she hangs up the phone immediately and opens the unread email, devouring every word she reads.

‘Haha yeah I knew you would have good taste in beer, you look like a girl who knows her beer. Maybe we should grab a beer sometime’ she smiled and re-read it over and over again. Is he serious she thought,  yeh let’s go grab a beer I’m sure your wife won’t mind at all, he was bluffing, trying to be flirtatious, that’s all it was a bit flirting here or there. She hit reply,

‘Yeh sure let’s just go out haha’ trying to be as sarcastic as possible over an email. This back forth flirting had been going on for about two weeks now, she didn’t really feel guilty about the whole thing it’s not as if she or he were cheating, it was some harmless flirting and nothing she hadn’t entertained before. Her email lit up again.

‘Sure we can, how about Friday after work at say the Star Hotel?’ She froze, in all the years she has playfully flirted and no one had ever actually pursued it, no one had ever taken it that one step further. What should she reply she thought, obviously this wasn’t harmless flirting anymore, going out for a drink meant she would have to lie to her boyfriend of seven years, it meant he would have to lie to his wife. She felt so unsure on what to do, her curious side wanted to say yes, she almost felt like she had to as she had been flirting with him for so long but she knew it wasn’t right, she knew she should say no. She got up to make a cup of tea and to think without the phone interrupting her thoughts. Her mind raced as did her heart, she weighed up the options over and over and got mad at herself every few seconds for even thinking of saying yes. What would one drink hurt, he is a colleague, nothing wrong with having a drink with a colleague but then if there was nothing wrong with it, no guilt associated with it then why did she have to lie? The truth was because it wasn’t harmless at all.

 

It got to Friday morning and she had decided not to go, however, she found herself making extra effort in getting ready and packing her deodorant and make up, something she never did. It was like her unconscious self had already decided she was going and was packing for her, her conscious and inner voice screamed no. As she kissed Jon goodbye she found herself speaking, not even meaning to, it was like the words just fell out. ‘Aw, I’m going out for drinks after work with a few people’. There it was, the first lie. She felt sick, the worst thing was he was totally fine about it. He never really stopped her from doing anything; actually sometimes she thought he didn’t really care what she did. On her drive to work the scenario of what was to come later played out in her head over and over again. She arrived at work and still wasn’t sure if she’d go or not. Adrian kept asking and trying to persuade her as she played hard to get, not that she was doing this on purpose. It got to 5:00pm and she could hear him coming down the stairs, she prepared herself, she knew it was him as he had certain stepping pattern. Deep breathe. He leaned over her desk, ‘so you coming?’ She paused and looked up at, ‘okay’. He smiled and walked out.

She jumped up, grabbed her bag and ran to the bathroom, she frantically adjusted her make up and fixed her hair.

 

She arrived at the bar, sweaty, heart racing and nervous as hell. She walked in and saw him immediately, jug on table and two glasses, she walked over to him ‘I assumed you wanted beer? That’s why we are here isn’t, to discuss our love if beer?’  He smiled at her cheekily. She was so nervous that when she went to speak, her voice shook. They spent about an hour talking about work, themselves, everything besides why they were actually there. It was all extremely awkward. They finished their drinks, ‘well I better get going, Bell will be wondering where I am’ he announced suddenly. The whole hour they had avoided speaking the names of their partners, she preferred it like this, it meant that she could forget about the reality of this situation. She instantly felt guilty and wanted to run away, this poor woman was waiting at home on a Friday night for her husband and he was there with her. They walked out of the pub in silence, she awkwardly pointed at her car ‘this is me, thanks for the beer’ she said edging to her car. ‘Wait’ he said quickly as he grabbed her hand. The electricity of his touch shot through her body, weeks of flirtatious conversations and she realized they had never touched before. ‘Why did you decide he come?’ He asked. Now he asks she thought after an hour of small talk, now in a shitty suburban pub car park he asks her. ‘Umm I’m not see really sure, I guess I was curious’ she admitted honestly. ‘So what would you do if I kissed you right now?’ She began to shake, ‘umm’ he leaned closer into her and stopped inches from her, lips almost touching. ‘Can I kiss you?’ She nodded ever so slightly.Image

The Forgotten Man

There you are crouched over in a corner of the tram, murmuring to yourself with the occasional grunt here or there. Covered in your prison tattoos, what an interesting tale you must have to tell. Your only belongings in a small, dirty, coloured  backpack. You rock back and forth and touch your face all over with your dirty stained hands. People stare. They stare and they stay away, they fear you, they judge you, they pity you. I don’t fear or judge or pity I just think, how? How did this happen? How were you forgotten ? Did society fail you? Were you not loved? Not supported? Not encouraged? 

Someone failed you, something happened to you and it isn’t fair. Like an illness that strikes people down from nowhere, why you? Why were you dealt this hand? 

The world failed you, the people who were meant to love you, failed you which meant you were forgotten and you inevitably failed yourself. I think of you as a boy, running and playing unaware of the life you would lead and now time has passed, your tattoos and skin scars from the life you have led. You are old, frail and alone, your only freedom from this hell is death. I hope your last days, months and years treat you more kindly and compassionately than what you have experienced so far. I hope I see you tomorrow and each day in the tram. I do not fear, I do not judge, I do not pity. 

 

Feminism Gone Mad- Poor Fellas!

As a woman I give thanks that I can vote, earn great money and have choices. I give thanks to the feminist movement which made all of these things possible and means that I don’t have to greet my man at the door with a martini and ask ‘how was your day master?’

The question I pose is this;

Has this movement gone too far? Have we become so obsessed with women having equal rights that it has thrown the gender equilibrium out of balance again?

Imagine for a second that there were thousands of ‘male only’ gyms-Oh the anarchy! Oh the discrimination!

As it is women are still relentlessly rallying to be accepted into certain male only sports like football. Can’t we just let the poor guys have something to themselves?

There are lots of mens social clubs around but lets face it, get on the nerves of an angry feminist by not letting her in and you’ll have a law suit as big as OJ Simpson’s on your hands. Here’s a good example, my boyfriend showed up to a women’s social club to do a job and they made him wait outside until all the women knew and had agreed upon his entry, just incase he tried to undress them with his eyes. Oh how frightful! Really girls, wasn’t the feminist movement about being strong, independent women yet in this scenario the women acted and were treated like delicate little wallflowers who are easily frightened by the mere sight of man. I bet they all have sex in the dark too because they would be aghast at the very sight of a penis and would probably faint in shock, hand on forehead.

 

Has anyone noticed lately the plethora of ads which depict males as being really stupid? Males who cannot locate simple items in the household fridge or successfully feed their own children when the woman of the house has gone out? They always cut to the man with a dumb founded look on his face, then the camera spans to the woman who looks at him sympathetically as if to say; ‘Oh, he can’t help being so useless, he is a man.’

Women fought bloody hard in the 60’s for ads of this kind, depicting stereotypical scenes of stupid and naive women to be abolished and now it’s the blokes who have to act this out. Well excuse me, I am not down with this. 

 

This is not equal! Ladies, if we ever want to be treated like equals lets start acting like it. I think being sexist has done a total 180. This is a world gone mad, too far in one direction, in 20 years time it will be the men be burning their jocks in front of Parliament House.

 

Lets here it for the fellas, you’re alright as are we.

 

Night Secrets

She looked him in the eyes and opened her mouth, finger pointed he placed one small pill on her tongue, nothing turned her on more. She closed her eyes and smiled, he smiled back. This foreplay was all they had, all they ever could have. The club was dark, crowded and dirty just the way she lliked it. ‘Three Coronas and a Heineken thanks’ she handed them out them, one for Jacob, one for her boyfriend Jack and the other to him. How she loved these nights, dancing, loosing control, forgetting everything and getting close to him without inhibitions. It was dangerous territory, maybe that’s what made it all the more enticing. Forbidden love.

No words were needed, he got up and she followed, down the narrow stair cases trying to avoid bumping into people until they reached the alley way where they sat on some milk crates, eyes as wide as dinner plates. The windows to the soul exposed and open, not to be shut until morning light. He gave her a cigarette and lit it for her.

‘Thanks, how’s things with you?’ She asked.

‘You know, same old shit. It just keeps getting worse, I’m so depressed, I don’t want to be here, I want to be with my kid not here in this shitty club but she won’t let me see him and really that’s all I want.’ She nodded in an understanding way but at the same time a dagger pierced her heart, he didn’t want to be here but this was the only place she wanted to be. They spoke about everything, they teased each other affectionately and spoke about their favorite band The Doors and their shared Jim Morrison obsession. Time doesn’t exist when your high, minutes roll into hours and you only realize how much time has past talking cod shit until someone comes looking for you.

‘Oi where have you two been all this time?’ Asked Jack jokingly but he wasn’t joking at all.

‘Just havin’ a ciggie mate’

The two followed Jack back up the spiral staircase to the top floor, the music getting more and more intense as they rose each level. Jack ordered more drinks to which they all downed a tab of acid. Getting high these days wasn’t for fun, it was just all they had, the only way to escape their shitty existence. Pills, speed, beer and acid can go either way and tonight they melded together in perfect synchronicity. They headed to the dance floor and danced, they danced as if the music took hold of them and their bodies had no choice but to move. They were hypnotized by the coloured lights on the ceiling which looked like giant Mentos lollies. She looked around and it seemed everyone was wearing glasses, this is something she often saw when she was high. She laughed, ‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ She yelled out… The boys all laughed ‘Whatchu on about Willis?’ one of them asked and she just laughed. They continued to dance whilst spilling their drinks on nicely dressed girls and making fun of everyone else. ‘Im going down stairs for some air’ she announced. ‘You guys coming?’ She knew that Jacob and Jack wouldn’t, Jack was in his own little world that he wouldn’t even notice she was gone, perfect.

Once again the two found themselves outside on crates chatting about everything and anything. They headed across the road to an ATM, the ATM was an enclosed ATM that you needed to press a button to enter, once inside she sat on the ground cross legged. ‘What are ya doing down there little one?’ He asked smiling at her.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure’ he replied although he looked a little worried as if he knew what was coming.

‘Do you ever think we would have been great together?’ Her voice was shaking.

‘Yeh, it’s crossed my mind but what does it matter?’

She felt an adrenaline race through her body and it wasn’t the drugs. He felt it too, she knew it.

‘I think we would be really good together’ she went on.

‘Why the fuck would say that?! Huh?! What’s the point of saying that?! You’re my brothers girlfriend! You live together, sure I’ve thought about it, that we would be great together, you are my best friend but you are also his girlfriend and blood is thicker than water… FUCK!’ The $200 he had withdrew went back into the machine because he hadn’t grabbed it in time.

She felt like someone had stabbed her in the heart, she wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream at him or hit him or kiss him or make love to him right there but she didn’t move, she didn’t make a sound. Tears rolled down her cheeks, she looked up at him and whispered to him ‘But you’re my Jim Morrison’.

He reached down to help her up, he grabbed her, hugged her tight and kissed her on the cheek.

‘Let’s go’ he said.

At that moment she knew that he loved her back but knew that it could never be and maybe that was enough.