Al Fresco Sex, Midsumma and Me

Fuck, it's been far to long since I actually wrote something for this blog, as opposed to just cutting and pasting in an article I'd written previously. Well, not that long I guess, but a week and a half is a long time in blogland. Time for an update.

Oh, and if my mum is reading this post, or my sister, or for that matter any of my friends (or even total strangers) who would prefer not to know the sordid details of my sex life, you should stop reading now.

No really, I mean it.

So, to quickly recap on what I've been up to of late:

For starters, I'm still hosting Summer Breakfast on RRR but finishing on Friday, and very much looking forward to not having to get up at 4am any more! Thanks heaps to all my special guest co-hosts: Dr Andi, alicia sometimes, Denise Hylands, Holly C and MJ; it's been a real pleasure working with you all.

Last Wednesday I went to a media preview of Man In Black, James Mangold's new biopic about musician Johnny Cash staring Joaqin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon. While the performances were strong, I thought it suffered the standard biopic flaw of feeling too episodic, as a result of cramming too much of the guy's life into its 136 minutes. I give it three and a half lines of speed out of five.

Thursday night my friend Mike (who took off for London on Saturday - have fun, mate!) took me to see Antony and the Johnsons. The support band, Coco Rosie, were truly fucking sublime, and for the first 15-20 minutes of the main gig I almost thought that they were going to be the highlight. Then Antony warmed up, and the whole auditorium started singing a two-part harmony for one particular song, and the night became almost transcendent.

The opening night of Melbourne's gay and lesbian cultural festival Midsumma was on on Friday, so I went to score free drinks in the VIQ (very important queers, LOL) area for an hour or so, taking my girlfriend Kelly as my plus one. Four wines later I fucked off to my mate Glen's birthday dinner at Peko Peko, a friendly Japanese cafe on Smith Street Fitzroy. More wine, good food, friendly people. Glen's mum, who seems to have taken a real shine to me, flirted with me (and vice versa) for half the night. Dont be embarassed Glen, it wasn't like she tried to tounge-kiss me or anything!

After I left the party I had to head back into Midsumma to meet up with a friend, so I could set him up with my dealer. Shame I don't get a commission...

Cutting through the Fitzroy Gardens on my way into town, I ran into a particularly attractive (ie tall, dark and blokey) young Italian guy who I'd seen hanging around the edges of the Midsumma festivities when I left earlier. He had the same attitude, posture and expression I've seen before on dudes hanging around the streets outside gay bars previously, ie wanting to go inside but too nervous to do so.

Being a friendly sort, and pissed enough to chat to a total stranger, I engaged him in conversation, and after talking for a bit we...oh alright then, yes, I bluntly propositioned him, and conversation was minimal. Happy?

We ended up having a particularly excellent shag in the bushes in the middle of the park. Ah, sex under the stars, the wind in your pubic hair, it's hard to beat. It was one of those excellent casual roots where instead of wanting to do your jeans up and leave straight away, we stayed snuggling for a little while afterwards. I tried talking him into round two, preferably back at my place, but he said he had to catch the train back to his girlfriend's place, although he did give me his e-mail address (he hasn't answered though - probably got the guilts once he sobered up).

Once again, I seem to have unwittingly helped someone sort out his confusion about his sexuality, at least temporarily. I should start charging for my services.

Saturday night the devillishly deviant Ms.Fits had invited me to a group party at the Retreat Hotel in Brunswick. The last time I was there was when I'd been invited to do a spoken word performance as part of a fundraiser for the anarchist bookshop Barricade, about eight or nine years ago. I think I shocked some of the anarchists with the piece I read, which included the line 'his arse-lips kiss my fingertip before I work it inside him.'

Anyway, about an hour before I left for the party I remembered the pill that had been sitting in the fridge since NYE. I took it. Half an hour later I decided to walk to the party as a consequence of suddenly feeling delightfully energetic and at one with the world. On a night when it was still about 30 degrees. Fuck! By the time I got there - sweating like a chairman of the Australian Wheat Board in front of the current inquiry, but feeling no pain - I was in a fucking excellent mood!

Spent half the night chatting with Glenny G from RRR's Best of the Brat and his girlfriend Rachel; Glenn has asked me to take him into a fuck-club, ahem I mean a sex on premises venue, such as Club 80 or Wet On Wellington, so that he can find out what they're like and talk about them on air one night. I've agreed, and have promised not to push him into the darkened grope-maze and run off laughing evilly. Stay tuned for that particular post!

Shortly after I left, several hours later, I decided to walk past Princes Park to see how they were going setting the place up for Sunday's Big Day Out. Still shitloads to do by the looks of it, although it was difficult to tell at night. As I walked, a car of yobs drove past me and shouted something I couldn't catch due to having my iPod turned way up. Perhaps they were criticising my dancing style? I was, after all, skipping, dancing and hopping along the footpath in my own unique style, although what I was listening to, I can't quite recall. Then they hurled a couple of eggs at me. Both missed, probably due to the afore-mentioned skipping and dancing. It felt like the universe was on my side.

Now it's Wednesday, and I've got all of $3.80 to last me until late tomorrow night, when I get paid after Q + A, and the only food in the house is one tomato, three eggs and half a load of bread; and I'm already sick of scrambled eggs from living off those supplies for the couple of days prior. Hmm, I wonder which of my friends I can prevail upon to shout me lunch and dinner for the next day or so?

Edit: 9.21pm - I just got an e-mail from Friday Al-Fresco boy. Hopefully we're hooking up again in another few days. Excellent; more sex with a hung young Adonis (or rather, his Italian equivalent, cos I think Adonis was Greek, but I could well be and often am, wrong.). Hopefully this time in my bed - or on the couch, or the floor, or the kitchen table - instead of the park. Damn mosquitos.

Tomato sandwich for dinner. Stomach still growling. Scraped together enough change from behind the couch and my bedroom floor to buy two stubbies of Mercury Dry, and settling in to read 16 short stories that I have to judge for Midsumma before tomorrow. Ah, life is grand.