BADelaide... Fuck off, that's the best I could do

Salutations loyal readers.

I beam through your computer screen from the David Jones’ food court in… Adelaide.

Wait…don’t go! Hear me out…

I hate it here. Granted, it’s not the most happening place in the world/country/200 km radius, but I like Canberra so it can’t just be the sinful boredom that makes me nauseous. I wander around and know where I’m going. I know street names. I remember the feeling of the cold air on my saliva riddled face from that well hydrated guy I made out with in front of the pig statues. It’s all too familiar. I feel sick. And bored, there's fuck all to do here!

But I can’t blame Adelaide for the deep pain in the bottom of my gut. That pain my friends is not gas… It’s absence.

Two of my boys, lonely, cold and vulnerable.

Mr Finn…and my Josh

I mean, sure, I set up Mr. Finnigan with an extra big bowl of chow and a bucket of water. I have organised at litter emptier and pea thrower to break up his 72 hour solitude. But Josh can’t be waved off that simply. Our secret handshake is complex. He’s a gated, silent, loner with amazing teeth and lips and it is absence, my friends which has sent my heart a-quiver.

As you have read, he too shares these sick feelings of longing that annoy all who surround us. And Sydney too feels empty when he’s not there. Not as empty as when I’m not there, I mean, they declare that a national day of mourning, but if Josh spent his days comparing himself to me, why there would be no reason for him to go on…

I’m better than him in every way.

But I digress…
All I have here now are Giant Panda’s and an unquenchable need to binge. They are my only Southern Comfort, besides my bottle of Southern Comfort…

Meanwhile my brain is going and I’m struggling to speak good anymore. I used to be smart and now I’m stupid. I thought the void where spelling and speaking proper was being filled with science, but now I’m thinking it’s just being filled with sarcasm, insults and maybe a small tumour…

A shout out to all my gays:
Don’t Cry For Me Eastern Sydney
The truth is I’m lost without you.
All through my bigotry, my vile existence
I kept my Prom dress,
….at your insistence

Later sluts
xx