Measure.

I worry about them all.

But at that age you are willing to test the limits of your mortality.To punch it till it pukes.I did it far worse than they do it back in my slay day so all I can do is keep watch and yell a lot.

If you had of told me even a year ago that I would invest so much into caring about these kids every Saturday night I would have laughed in your face,taken the money and run. But they astound me and it saddens me on one level. The level being that I don’t think that they have enough honest human contact with any of their peers on a day to day basis.I could be wrong but when I see how they light up when I enquire about new partners,jobs,grades…it batters my black heart to a midnight pulp.

I was given a single perfect white rose last night from one of the boys that resides in my ‘hood and makes the trek into the city every weekend. I mentioned in passing eons ago that they were my favorite. His sweet girlfriend looked on bemused so I swept them both into a giant hug and didn’t let go of the cellophane wrapped sweetness all night.

One of the same crew drove me home later on. Me loaded down with a fruit tray that one of my work mates had kindly constructed for me.I am eating fat red grapes by the fist-full as I type. Caligula style.

Oh my Wollongong crew who make the journey up every week and fuss over me endlessly.Who post and re-post my picture for Miss Inked and get all of their friends to vote. Who paint,concrete and sand the whole week away only to come and find what they have lost through hours of back breaking labour on the dance-floor. So polite and courteous.

When I am done for the night,converse clad and exhausted sitting on the end of the bar they arrive one by one for back breaking hugs and to see if I am ok.To trade Will Farrel lines and make me laugh.

The tall redheaded brothers who dote on me and make me swoon with stereo hugs.

Yeah,you got me,I care.

One of them told me that it would break his heart if I left. I thought of all the leaving that I have done in my life and smiled.Passport crammed with stamps,so much lost along the way.That they don’t know who I am what I do away from here .That to them I am “Their” door-girl. Their “Se7en” Its a sweet break from my own reality.

My heinous teen-aged reality.

Two more shows to go at The Sandringham. I have to get all my crap home after that,all the candles and fabric. Rickard’s will be rolling his eyes as I stuff all my gypsy crap into his car.I know that Sue would like me to keep going but I want to bail on it while I am still in love with it. I don’t want it to get old. I really have to get to work on my band.Time is slipping away yet again and I have a fistful of amazing songs that need to find their way into a studio. I have to free myself up to journey back to “The Cat Palace” and be the low end dominant Alpha that I am.

I was spooked by weird dreams of playing pool in Hollywood with Fat Mike and miss-placing lyric books. The light was summer struck,Xanaxed  and grainy and I wonder if I will ever get to go home again.Letters from my twin Mark G making me smile,Tim S back on tour,so many amazing people that I miss so very much….

I try and draw solace by small measure that this is where I am meant to be right now and to hone what I have on this side of the planet. Saved by infants on a Saturday night and a fist full of fine friends that make me cut the shit and get my ass into gear.Saved by my band with its dream line up.

Don’t think that I am going to go back out into the world for a few days. My bedroom is a disaster zone and I have to get grocery’s. I want to stay up all night and write.Get my crotchety 12-string into some semblance of tune that doesn’t sound like cats being boiled in oil. Just lie here and daydream.I am good at that….

My felonious lost boy seems to be doing just fine without me. I have read some disastrous reviews of his new album which made me sad. A shame that he forgot to hone the many amazing colors he has in his formidable palate and just chose to scream his hot head off. I hope that he is well and unhindered by vampires,powder and peroxided whores but I severely doubt it.

I think that he has or is trying to forget me. Good luck with that Brat.

I don’t want to be forgotten much like I chose not to forget. And it is a choice. You have to be vigilant with memories lest they slip away and they will given half the chance.

I think that I should jam my earplugs back in my head.Is it just me or does Lynx deodorant smell like looming nonconsensual sex? Yep, you guessed it! I just heard my roommate come home. The banal dreck that falls from his cake-hole sets my teeth on edge so best I block it out.No one ever told me that the pay off for cheap rent was living next to a fucktard of biblical magnitude.

Guess that’s the price that I am being forced to pay in light of all the cool stuff that befalls me.

Quel bummer.

But after nights like last night? Its almost worth it……