Boozer's Prayer (by Amelia Hitchcock)

I stole this off my lovely friend Amelia's FB page because I thought it was cute ;)

My version of the lords prayer, for drinking times:

Our Lady of Perpetual Fuck Ups,
Screw ups be thy game,
Thy stupidity stuns,
thou art so dumb,
it shocks, even amazes!
give us this day our dose of despair,
and forgive us our relapses,
as we forgive those who slapses us,
save us from the alluring vial,
And deliver us from cheap vodka,
for thine is the chaos,
the ridicule,
and excuses.
whenever whatever,
the end!

Words

The Roman philosopher Seneca wrote

I will not relinquish old age if it leaves my better part intact. But if it begins to shake my mind, if it destroys my faculties one by one, if it leaves me not life but breath, I will depart from the putrid or the tottering edifice. If I know that I must suffer without hope or relief I will depart not through fear of the pain itself but because it prevents all for which I would live.


Anne Langbein was my friend. She was witty, poetic, wise, and affectionate; she made the BEST shortbread in the world, had a beautiful rose garden and a conservatory full of healthy, verdant tropical plants of a thousand shades. She had two lovely and devoted grown daughters who were both doing well in their personal and professional lives, and who each had great kids who knew that they were loved. Anne was a potter, and made some gorgeous bowls and urns. She gave me one, and it's one of my most precious possessions.

I met Anne when I was working as a care-giver for Presbyterian Support Services in Wellington. For some clients I helped with personal care such as showering, dressing, preparing and helping with dinner, for others I did housework, grocery shopping and the like. Anne was one of the latter, I collected her groceries every week, did the ironing, swept and mopped the floors, did the dishes and cleaned the bathroom. She was a hard task-master, she was so fussy about me getting the ironing right, making me redo the sheets, towels and handkerchiefs over and over again til I had them perfect, and I did it without so much as a groan even though I thought ironing them as a bit silly, I would have done anything for her.

Anne had Motor Neuron Disease, and couldn't do these things for herself anymore. I pray that no one reading this ever gets Motor Neuron, or anything similar, it was horrible to see her slowly losing the ability to write, to water her plants, to speak, even to swallow. She was so distressed at having to give up her gardening and pottery, it broke my heart. I'm in tears writing this now, she was so brave, and so resolutely cheerful for the sake of the people around her. She'll always be one of my personal heroes, I'll always remember her and I'll always be grateful for the time I had with her.

Anne was tortured by the disease, as everything she loved doing slipped away from her, and she had to rely on others for even the most basic things like using the toilet, lifting a glass of water to her mouth and closing her mouth so that she could swallow, after having been fiercely independent and self-sacrificing her whole life. She tried to commit suicide several times but was physically unable to do it, she asked her daughters to help her when it became to much to bear, but of course they couldn't because of the legal repercussions and the psychological trauma this would bring, and Anne knew this and felt utterly wretched that she'd put them in that position. Eventually, mercifully, she died unaided, but she and her family went through years of hell first, needlessly, because our society prohibits assisted suicide and treats as criminals those who out of compassion help others to die.

For the funeral, Anne's family made all of the dishes that she was known for, faithfully following her carefully handwritten recipes, the pride of place going to the shortbread, which no one else could ever make exactly right. They each stood up that sunny afternoon in her beautifully-tended rose garden and talked about how she used to make them laugh, reciting her funny little housework rhymes and her witticisms, sharing their most treasured memories of an absolutely wonderful and unique woman, a woman who went out of her way to help others, who never wanted to be a burden on anyone, who made everyone she met feel special. I couldn't help thinking that even though she couldn't say a word by the end, she let us see her soul. I have never felt as honoured to be part of someone's life.

I miss you, Anne. Thank you for everything you did, for being strong, for caring so much. I wish it had been easier for you.


Kill a fly in Spring
And you've done a splendid thing,
Kill one in July
And you've only killed one fly.

- Anne

Oi!!

You all.... go check out Amelia's great new project at http://byebabies.blogspot.com/

Do it!!

:)

Danny's Angry Letter

[Submitted to CHAFF and published 12th October 09]

Leah was smart, beautiful, hilarious, cheeky, warm, friendly, generous, outgoing, popular and passionate. She was also gay, and very recently she committed suicide. Her community is devastated, we miss her terribly, and we’re struggling to come to grips with what happened, searching for answers to heal our broken hearts and finding few. I suspect it will be a long time before our hearts heal.

Bernie was gentle, witty, considerate, daring, charming, fun-loving and funny. He too was gay, and he killed himself a couple of months ago. His friends are still reeling from the shock, and grieving the loss.

The lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender communities in New Zealand and around the world are disproportionately represented in suicide statistics. We are more than three times as likely to commit suicide as our heterosexual peers. We live in a world with few visible role models, we often grow up always looking over our shoulders to make sure we’re not being noticed, laughed at, jeered at and threatened. We sometimes experience complete rejection from lifelong friends and from our families when we finally try living honestly and openly as ourselves, and in some towns and rural areas we have no one to share our struggles with. And sometimes, we are the victims of horrific violent assaults.

We live in a world that tells us we’re pathetic, sick, unwanted, un-thought-of, unimportant. We hear you, Girl in the Library, when you gossip with your friends and you laugh about some guy you know, calling him a ‘fucking faggot.’ We hear you, Dude on the Bus, when you laugh with your mates, saying that [insert object of humiliation here] is ‘gaay!’ You either think we’re not there, that it doesn’t matter, or worse, that those words really do mean stupid, lame, disgusting, pathetic and worthless. You don’t go around saying ‘that’s just Maori!’ or ‘He’s such a nigger,’ cos you know that hurts people. So why do it to us? Every time you say it you tell yourself, the world around you, and maybe some lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender person who might be sitting right next to you that anyone not heterosexual isn’t worth the same human decency you extend to others.

My 10 yr old cousin Reece is gentle, clever, kind, funny and cheerful, he already knows he’s gay, and his mother tells me he comes home crying from school more often than not.

So stop it. Just fucking stop it, ok?

DR

In Memoriam...

Her Name Was Leah

She was outgoing, fun, friendly, energetic, always the life of the party. She put a lot of time and energy into helping people and volunteering for things, and she was involved in everything - she DJ'ed at the bar most weekends, she was involved with two local acting groups, she played softball and soccer, was part of the medieval jousting club (yes, they exist), she wrote poetry, modelled, took photography classes -- everyone knew her. And nobody knew she was having such a hard time the last six to twelve months - she kept it to herself, and then a week ago she killed herself.

I saw her a few hours before she did it, up at the bar, and I didn't stop to ask her how she was cos I was out looking after some friends of S's from out of town and the place was noisy and full. She seemed to be in her own little world, and her hair (which was often flaming red, golden or bright pink) was black. I wish I'd said something now, anything at all to make her know that we cared. I wish I could go back to that night.

The funeral was yesterday and about two hundred people showed up. The service was 90 minutes, and was lighthearted and full of humour, just like Leah was, which made it all the harder to bear. Her family came through, which we hadn't expected seeing how they'd disowned her for being gay, and they gave some really beautiful eulogies. And her flatmates and friends had all paid for it, and it was really lovely. I was bawling my eyes out the whole time, she was always so nice to me, and so cheerful and beautiful, and it was like she was proof that you could come through even the hardest of lives with a smile on your face, but I guess none of us knew just how hard it had really been for her. We all failed her.

We held the wake at the club, and everyone was pretty shattered. I couldn't stay, I was really depressed, so S and I went for a walk, and then I went home and slept. I just feel dazed now, it's like it hasn't happened but I keep having thoughts of her lying in the coffin, and that starts me off crying all over again.

She really was so beautiful.

Loss

"Yeah... And I'm sad! But at the same time I'm really happy that something can make me feel that sad... It's like... It makes me feel alive, y'know? It makes me feel human. The only way I could feel this sad now, is if I felt somethin' really good before, so I have to take the bad with the good. So I guess what I'm feelin' is, like a beautiful sadness... I guess that sounds stupid... Besides, I'd rather be a crying little pussy than a faggy goth kid!" (image and quote courtesy of Gay Banker at http://gaybanker.blogspot.com/2009/09/philosophy-of-butters-stotch.html)

It's been a pretty horrible week for the whole community here - it's like everything has kind of fallen to pieces.

I went in to the student association yesterday to see Karl about some details for the Sexual Health Group meeting I had arranged for last night, and of course Karl shares an office with my mate Cassie, who also knew Leah. Everybody did - she was so involved and active.

Cassie was sitting there when I walked in the door - we took one look at each other and both burst into tears. It's all so unfair, and way these things always come down to family fighting and money - that's just disgusting.

The funeral is tomorrow afternoon. Cass and me joked about everyone showing up goth, or with bright pink hair, and we actually did laugh -- that kind of relieved, guilty, sad laughter -- but really it would be the most appropriate thing to do. She always did stand out, and I can't help thinking that she'd be smiling if we did and she could know it.

We Will Miss Her

Darkness - by Lord Byron

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came, and went and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires - and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings, the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
Forest were set on fire but hour by hour
They fell and faded and the crackling trunks
Extinguish'd with a crash and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremolous; and vipers crawl'd
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless, they were slain for food:
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again; a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devoured,
Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corpse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress, he died.
The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive, And they were enemies;
They met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they raked up,
And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Wich was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and
Each other's aspects. saw, and shriek'd, and died, beheld
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless,
A lump of death, a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes, and ocean stood still,
And nothing stirred within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropp'd
They slept on the abyss without a surge
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon their mistress had expired before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them.
She was the universe.

To T & E, Happy Xmas

What could I write on this card?
I haven't got a clue,
There really isn't room to fit
Alll that I'd wish for you.
I'd wish you happiness and joy,
and wealth, and friends and fun;
I'd wish the stars, I'd wish the moon
I'd wish the morning sun.
In fact I'd find it hard to stop,
I should just keep it plain
And settle for one wish for now -
A perfect Christmas day.

- DannyR

Did It Again...

Ok so there's this guy, let's call him E.He has a partner, T, they've been together seven years, they seem really stable, and they obviously love each other a lot.I can't stop flirting with E, he's really sweet and smart, and I think he's pretty handsome. I'm not trying to break them up, I don't think I could compete with T, and I don't want to. E seems to like me a bit though, or maybe I'm just reading too much into it.I have to stop doing this. I just want to be asexual... so why can't I be?

Aaaarrrggghhhh!!!!

Off to Wellington now to stay for a few days with Cookie in Petone... should be fun. I have a lot of reading and studying to do, but I hope to catch up with James, Tom, Gavin, Kris E, Antz, Russ, Andrew and Iain.

I've had a really stressful week so I wasn't going to go... but maybe the time out will do me good. In any case, I have to be down there for Tuesday because I have a contact course for my sociology paper about family and domestic life, the first essay's due next week and I need all the help I can get :D

I gave that guy D**** my number last weekend and haven't heard anything, so I guess he's not interested, and that depressed me. I think he's gorgeous... why is it that any guy I'm interested in doesn't spare me a second glance, it's only the ones I'm just friends with who like me that way??

My old boss from Honey Hive, Sandra, rang me last night and I had deleted her number, so that was embarrassing - I didn't recognise her voice!! She was nice, but I often felt she was only being nice because she wants me to open her new store here in Palmerston North next year. I don't want to be involved, but I don't know how to say no.

That's my big problem... I just can't say no. Guys I'm not into ask me out, and I just go along with it because I don't think I'm going to get what I want anyway. People ask me to take on extra responsibilities in the queer community, and I say yes. Someone can't be bothered doing their bit, and they ask me to take it on, and I do, however reluctantly.

I wish I could just tell people no!

Good Slut, Bad Slut -- CHAFF 2008

When I chose my life of polyamory, I was desperately worried that my friends would think I was some sort of sex-obsessed selfish pervert, and judging by some of their initial reactions, my fears weren’t entirely unjustified. So I made sure I distanced myself from all those nasty notions of ‘bad’ sluttery we’re all so familiar with; I was the very model of the ‘Ethical Slut.’

What do I mean by that? What is polyamory? Well, it’s a complex, difficult thing to define, but at its most basic it’s a commitment to romantic or sexual relationships that aren’t exclusive. In other words, you may have a relationship with your partner, and he or she may have another partner or more than one, and so might you. You might belong to a triple, instead of the more conventional couple we’re all used to, or even a quad. You might all share a house, or may live in separate homes, dividing your time between partners. Sounds wack, right? But polyamorists will tell you it’s only natural, that the lifelong exclusive romantic relationship we’ve all come to expect in the Western world is a cultural invention, and we can actually choose what works best for us each individually.

There’s a whole new language of relationships being worked out to deal with the complexities of polyamory… it gets pretty complicated. There’s your Primary Partner(s), the person or persons with whom you are in your most significant relationship, then there’s your Secondary and even Tertiary partners with whom you have slightly less involved relationships. To clarify – polyamory isn’t just a being in a couple that fools around a bit on the side, like ‘swinging,’ because you can actually have more than one Primary Partner (i.e.: everyone’s on the same footing), such as in a Triangle relationship. And it gets more complicated than that… your relationship can be closed (i.e.: nobody new can be brought in – that’s called Polyfidelity) or open to anyone (what some polyamorists jokingly call Polyfuckery).

The important point here, the REALLY important bit, is that it’s all honest and consensual – everyone involved knows what’s going on, and is free to participate or not. In other words, it’s NOT ‘cheating,’ because no agreements are being broken. In fact, polyamory is all about honest communication, negotiation and respect for the people you’re involved with. It’s NOT a traditional polygamous harem, where one man has several women at his beck and call (the stereotypical straight-boy dream), in fact, if you go onto any polyamory website you’ll find women are pursuing non-monogamous relationships just as much as men are, and that they’re happy calling the shots*.

Polyamorists say they’re just being realistic, that the Number One relationship hang-up in the Western world is ‘cheating’ and being ‘cheated on,’ that dishonesty around non-monogamy is widespread and wrecks a lot of otherwise good relationships, and that they’re just accepting human nature for what it is and moving past all the guilt and hurt by dealing with the issues in ways that are respectful and honest. They don’t think polyamory is right for everyone, they stress that it’s NOT a fix for a bad relationship (in fact it’ll just make a bad relationship worse), and they point out that it takes work – LOTS of work, and good communication skills. In fact, think of all the work that goes into a monogamous relationship, and multiply that by the number of partners in the poly relationship, and that should be enough to put you off, right? But even so, polyamorists will tell you it’s worth it, that “love shared is love multiplied.”

The polyamorist is careful to mention that it’s about love, not sex, and very often they reject labels like heterosexual, homosexual and bisexual when talking about themselves because those terms lead people to focus on the nookie – who gets it, with whom, and how often. Poly people frequently point out that they often have fewer sexual partners than people who practise serial monogamy, and that sometimes their relationships don’t even involve sex at all. A lot of polyamorists say that friendship IS a kind of polyamory… we don’t expect our friends not to have other friends, we accept that they might not want exactly the same things as we do, we let them live and grow and learn from others. It takes a lot of trust, great communication skills, and a willingness to tackle the hard stuff head on (like jealousy and insecurity).

The long and the short of it is that people who practice polyamory make a distinction between what they do and what people generally think of when they think about non-monogamy, which is dishonesty, deception, and rampant, indiscriminate promiscuity. Look at us, poly people say, we’re respectable!!

In other words, they don’t want to look like the ‘bad’ slut.

Who is this ‘bad’ slut? We’re all familiar with her/him. S/he is villainized in television, movies and popular song, because s/he has casual sexual relationships that don’t involve love, whether through ‘cheating,’ swinging, or just good ol’ fashioned promiscuous singlehood. The ‘bad’ slut ISN’T someone who cheats on a partner because s/he’s met someone s/he likes better and then leaves the first partner for the second, that’s pretty commonplace these days and, while hurtful, is generally accepted as just doing serial monogamy badly. No, the ‘bad’ slut is usually female (when it’s a guy his whoring around is usually celebrated – double standards people!!), s/he’s someone who enjoys sex for the sake of it and is happy to have it outside of relationships. And in our contemporary culture, that’s just not on.

Sociologists tell us that this state of affairs was set up by heterosexual couples hundreds of years ago, when romantic love stopped being just an adulterous liaison in the royal courts of Europe and started being seen (in the West at least) as a good basis for marriage. It’s not too much of a jump from sex as an expression of love within marriage to sex as an expression of love before marriage, as long as the two people do actually intend to get married. And from that it’s no big step to sex as an expression of love without marriage ever actually entering the equation, and to loving sexual relations between people of the same sex who aren’t allowed to get married. But it’s a much bigger jump from this kind of sex as part of a loving, intimate relationship to sex just for the fun of it, outside of a relationship, with whoever we want to have it with. That’s why promiscuity is still frowned on, why gay and lesbian couples can be together and be respectable and accepted, as long as they keep the sex in relationships.

As a culture, we don’t like people having casual sex, we tend to think it’s something you grow out of, or happily give up when you meet “the One.” Even recent shows like Sex and the City, for all their boasting of being about empowered women enjoying their sexuality, ultimately preach the old lesson that the most satisfying and fulfilled sex life is one that leads (even in the most roundabout way) to the traditional “Happily Ever After.” Maybe that’s what’s behind the recent rise in the popularity of polyamory: it’s non-monogamy, but it’s still playing by the rules. Kinda.

But there’s a problem with polyamorists calling themselves the “Ethical Sluts.” It implies that polyamory is the only ethical non-monogamy, it implies that people who are happy to enjoy sex outside of committed relationships are incapable of being honest with or respectful of their sexual partners. Essentially it reinforces all those old notions about the ‘bad’ slut, condemning all those whose non-monogamy takes other forms, such as the open marriage, friends-with-benefits or fuck-buddies, or sexually active but confirmed singledom.

Personally, I’m happiest in committed emotional relationships with at most two or three people, whether or not it involves sex. But I have plenty of friends who similarly aren’t the monogamous type, who don’t identify as polyamorous, and who are quite capable of being responsible and considerate of their sexual partners’ feelings and bodies. And then I have those weird and wonderful friends who are somewhere-in-between, being in honest, committed triples, quads etc, and still “playing the field.” Good on them, I say, if that’s what makes them happiest.

And yes, I have plenty of friends in exclusive, monogamous partnerships who are perfectly happy that way, and I’m perfectly happy for them too. I cry at their weddings and civil unions, I celebrate their engagement parties and anniversaries. There really is so much diversity out there, and it’s all beautiful. I wish everybody could see that.


* For more info about polyamory, see (among others):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0SX6SILmDs

http://www.polyamoryonline.org/

http://www.polyamory.org/

DannyR

I want to PAY someone to bash my skull in with a crowbar... any takers??

I want to kill myself.

My flatmate has a new boyfriend, who's a head nurse at Welly hospital, and drives up here to see him every week. It's pretty rotten of me to be unhappy that my flatmate's happy, but, well, I am. Also, Hunky, one of the guys I've loved this many years now, has graduated and has a motorbike, so all's looking rosy for him, and his ex, who I also loved, is heading this way for a visit, and he hates me, even though I miss him. Lezzer #1 is torn between the ex-girlfriend and a new girl who's interested, my most recent ex seems to be reconnecting with his family and is happy enough, my other recent ex is engaged to that trollop faux-lesbian of his. The straight guy I have a crush on, and have done for ages, Mister P, ignores me, my own family is getting all close etc, and I can't because I'm just so angry with them, and I'm falling behind majorly at Massey and don't think I can make it up in two weeks... TWO WEEKS!!! That's all that's left of Semester One. I don't think I can handle another semester. I don't think I can handle being alive.

I want to die.

Bourbon (inspired by Nigel)

O wonderful elixir,
Drop from heaven,
Precious brew,
Nothing else can take away
My problems like you do.
Intoxicating draught,
Cure for angst
And tears and woe,
Come soothe my troubled heart
And then to slumber let me go.

DannyR

Fair Weather

I really should have guessed,
I'd have thought I would have known,
I said I'd seen it all before -
These symptoms you have shown.
I knew something wasn't right
But I really didn't care,
Too self-involved to spend the time,
Taken with my own affairs.
And now that you're unwell
I'm too ashamed to lend an ear -
What kind of friend am I?
Turning a blind eye,
Walking quickly by,
I pretend I'm unaware.

Regrets

I'm actually writing this post on November 17th 2009, my anniversary, a day of reflection and contemplation on my life.

Looking back on 2002 seven years later, I'm struck by how shallow and self-centred my diary entries of the time were, how oblivious I was to the feelings of others, and how utterly clueless I was about relationships and sex. I treated Bryce appallingly in '02, he had been my best friend for a couple of years and I casually discarded him in order to rush into one unsuitable relationship after another.

All that Christian virtue of mine, where's the evidence? I was inconsiderate, selfish and vain, I avoided conflict and in so doing I didn't treat people who had been good to me with the respect they deserved. Perhaps I got what I deserved in Aaron.

I would do anything to go back and change my behaviour that year, but as one of my diary quotes from the time wisely says, "Sometimes more is learned from being wrong, rather than right." Another diary quote says "A clear conscience is usually a sign of a bad memory."

Bryce, Brent, if you're out there, I'm really, truly sorry.

Disaster Party

I had arranged to meet Ben at the Rangiora Car Show today, but he didn't show up (no surprises there then).

I was there with Brent and Bryce, and Bryce seemed to notice that Brent and I were a bit cuddly. We had leftovers for lunch at Brent's and then Bryce and I went over to his place to watch movies while Brent stayed home to tidy up house for another party that night.

We watched Meet Joe Black, which made us a bit late to pick up Steve and Leon for the party. This time, it was all gays, and Bryce was obviously uncomfortable. I noticed Steve kissing him on the verandah, with leon right there, but I didn't really understand what was going on, I was playing hostess again. Everyone was saying that Brent and I made a cute couple, and Bryce got very upset. He followed me to Brent's bedroom and I ended up telling him that Brent and I were together.

Later, we all piled into cars and went clubbing. Brent and I danced together but soon wanted to go, and so we left early and went back to his place and slept together again. Bryce told me the next day that he'd stayed the night at Steve and Leon's.


"Sooner or later, doesn't everyone stop smoking?"

The Deal Is Sealed

Brent's for dinner at 4:30pm. His middle-age, upper-middle-class straight friends were there, and one of them was coming onto me but I didn't care. I was playing hostess and helping Brent cook. It was a bit of a party and everyone was pretty happy. Brent was showing off his dick, which I thought was odd but because everyone else accepted this as normal I accepted it too. It's pretty big.

At the end of the night Brent and me waved goodbye as everyone left, and we went to bed together. It was fantastic.


"If you try to fail, and succeed, which have you accomplished?"

Horny Holiday

On Wednesday the 16th of January, me and Bryce packed up and drove to Queenstown, he'd scored accommodation in the A Line Hotel through his work. It was beautiful and sunny on the way down and we listened to cds the whole way. We checked into the hotel and Bryce was embarrassed that we were sharing a double bed - he thought it might get back to his work.

In Queenstown, we played cards a lot, ate way too much McDonalds, went on a lot of walks around the town and the surrounding countryside, went to see The Lord of the Rings at the movies again (I'd already seen it with my mum), and tried fucking. Neither of us was really able to bottom, though, so we gave up and and kept to the usual routine.

The day after we arrived, we went for a walk around the Botanic Gardens on the peninsula at night, as we sat on a park bench talking, holding hands, we were surprised and a bit alarmed to see a guy standing under the bushes, watching us and masturbating. We ran away and sat under a streetlight back in town, and laughed when the same guy walked past ten minutes later.

On the Saturday we visited Glenorchy, and went for a long walk around the lagoon. This was followed by a long drive out into the countryside along a gravel road, looking for a place called, ironically enough, 'Paradise.' We didn't find it.

Later that afternoon we played minigolf, and Bryce beat the pants off me. Then we went up the Gondola and went on the Luge, which is bloody scary.

On Sunday 20th, we left the hotel at 10am and drove to Milford Sound and Te Anau. The scenery was amazing, but the trip was long and boring. We didn't go on a ferry ride or anything, it was too expensive. Then it was a long drive back towards Christchurch, stopping overnight at Twizel in a horrible little budget backpackers.

The next morning we continued home, heading up inland to Mount Cook. Thank god I didn't get a job at The Hermitage Hotel there, it's so boring, despite the spectacular views.

Driving on, we stopped at Tekapo for lunch, visited the Church of the Good Shepherd and the famous statue of the dog, and then we began the final leg of the journey. We got back into Christchurch at 3:30pm and I went back to Ben and Becky's to do laundry.

I spent the evening at Tall Steve and Short Leon's house, reading their books about gay culture and listening to Steve prattle on.



"Why is it called Tourist Season if you can't shoot them?"

"Is a castrated pig disgruntled?"

"Whose cruel idea was it for the word 'lisp' to have an 's' in it?"

"Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?"

Not Misleading At All...

I had sex with Bryce again at Ben and Becky's while they were out, just for fun. We have an agreement...


Q: Why should lawyers always be buried face down?
A: When they wake up, they start digging...