On Sluts, and Ethics

Rules of the sandpit: Don't steal other people's toys or playlunch. Don't dump your mates for the new kid with the shiny Tonka truck. Say please and thankyou. Don't pee in your own patch. Be loyal to your mates.

Sure, certain 'non-conventional' relationship structures can require some extra thinking time to do well, but really, the basics are that simple.

And so it surprises me that some people seem to spend so much time sitting around bollocking on about complicated ethical and moral structures, trying to outdo each other on theoretical points of non-monog/poly/kinky/queer relationships, and continue to ignore the fact that if you just PLAY NICE and TREAT OTHERS HOW YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TREATED then much pain and nonsense would be avoided.

Bah! Thank heavens for the Monster is all I can say!

Monster Dedication

Sometimes you make me feel like I'm living at the edge of the world,
'Its just the way I smile,' you said...

-- The Cure, 'Plainsong'

Happy Anniversary Baby

In just a few days, it will be a WHOLE YEAR since the Monster and I shacked up. Two cities, house renovation, thesis angst and still going strong.

Wow.

Swirling

Swirling takes up all my time
Makes me know that I'm
Above you

Swirling, curling up in smoke
It started as a joke, but
Love you

Moss
Suspended on a grave
And growing in a cave
Where I can carve your name

Love you

Swirling occupies my life
And if I had a wife, she'd
Be you

Swirling takes up all my time
And if that's such a crime, why
Love you?

Moss suspended on a stone
And down the telephone
To where I call your name

Love you

-- Robyn Hitchcock

Happy House

After many months of painting, sanding, oiling, cleaning, sugar soap, mineral turps, cuss words, strained muscles, pots of coffee and the odd nervous breakdown the HOUSE HAS BEEN SOLD, SETTLED, VACATED. We said goodbye and thankyou to it yesterday, tenderly mopping the hallway and sweeping down the porch, picking the last of the ripe lemons and grabbing handfuls of fresh rosemary. It was sweet and sad, and today I feel a little lost, but still a feeling that all is right in the world too.

A friend said yesterday that her years have themes (2009 being Beauty). I'm thinking mine is Completion and Closure- project one, Monster's house, is done and dusted. The second major project to get through is my thesis, and that is mostly under control I think/hope.

There's something satisfyingly proper about the way the Monster and I are going about this all, it feels like the way 'we' should begin. A sorting out of the past and honouring where we come from and what we bring to the whole affair, a period of transition and consolidation. Sifting through boxes of books and trinkets, evaluating habits and scenes and ways of being, working out what to keep and what needs to be passed on, what benefits and what stifles.

And so soon to Sydney, but not in a way I have been there before.

My City Valentine

It is overcast here, with sprinkles of rain and threats of storm, and nowhere near the 35 degrees predicted by those supposed to know. We spend Valentine's Day eating muffins and drinking coffee and demolishing our mates' shed with jackhammer, sledgehammer, crow bar, angle grinder, tin snips and brute force. There's a narrow escape for some other and myself when a large wall unexpectedly falls, the panicked survey for damage to life and limb before the adrenalin kicks and we return to work faster than ever. In the middle of all the laughs and innuendo and casual camaraderie I find myself more homesick than usual.

When we get back to our house I hide in my study, looking for sanctuary on the internet and downloading Cure songs with a hope that they will carry me to more familiar places. The Monster nurtures me with chocolate and tea and I realise I miss my city like a lover, her-water-her-moods-her-tastes-her-smells-her-dirt-her-tides-her-perspectives-her-humour-her-nuances-her-seductions-her-people-her-architecture-her-excesses-her-possibilities-her-promises...

'and i forget how to move when my mouth is this
dry and my eyes are bursting hearts in a blood-
stained sky oh it was sweet it was wild and oh
how we...i trembled stuck in honey honey
cling to me so just one more just one more go
inspire in me the desire in me to never go home' (the cure, homesick)

I leave her so much these days it seems. And every time I return she is somehow new, but always the same as ever.

Laundry Day

Over six months of co-habitation with my Significant Monster, and I STILL often get excited when I hang out the washing and see our delicates flapping about together in the breeze. Smitten? Moi?

Happy 2009 From ZooFi

This being our last happy snap of 2008. Thanks to Morgan Carpenter/Same Same for the shot.

One More Sleep

Until I get on that plane heading east, and I am excited and silly at the thought of seeing my family and all my mates and the harbour and my library and dancing at Kooky and maybe getting to the women's pool and eating dumplings and going to the markets and...

I miss Monster already. Smitten. Absolutely smitten.

TRASHLESS PERTH PANIC *REPRISE*

thankyou all so much for you empathy, sympathy and offerings!

not quite sure what has got into me lately, more often i am admiring the pace of proceedings in Perth... and its not quite REGIONAL i suppose, but... oh, I DO MISS THE BRIGHT LIGHTS! and even the smaller stuff that comes from having your own crew, whatever the city: strolling down King St on the way home from Uni and stopping by the Newtown or Varga Bar and catching up with whoever is around for early dinner/coffee and cake/beer etc... I could survive most of the time without the BIG stuff if the little stuff was here, the smaller day-to-day interactions that add up to the bulk of one's socialising and just make things more PLEASANT... bbqs, picnics, drinking in the backyard, DVD nights, impromptu meals and blow-up pools and beach trips and people just dropping by... i long for my TRIBE!

sure things happens here, and I do get the OCCASIONAL invite, but its not the way I am used to living, this sort of locked-up-at-home-with-occasional-venturings-into-the-NIGHTLIFE type of reality.

hmm, time to gather my sensible head and stop being a drama queen and remind myself of what i love about Perth. i love her wide open spaces, her tiny little city skyline, the way time seems to stretch out forever, the fact that if you missed something (fashion/musical genre/play) its probably still/just available here, the peaceful river(no ferries really, or any other boats), wildflowers, freemantle, kings park, zoo (the club), cheap theatre, friendly folk... and most of all, time spent with Monster. Doing ANYTHING-- frolicking, washing up, renovating, watching telly, cuddling, playing with the kittens, hanging out in the spa, making shows, general pottering. LOVE HER TO BITS!

You, Blush? No!

It seems that some people out there think I am immune to blushing, even when I am being paid attention by some exquisite creature. And getting all flustered if they look at me across the dancefloor or offer me a drink, or if they stand just that little bit closer than casually, or brush against me as they pass, or whisper sweet obscenities in my ear... I get tongue-tied, all a-quiver, can't think straight and tend to just babble inanely if not clammed up entirely. And I love it.

Its been happening a lot lately. Usually its all about the Monster-- when she gives me THAT look, or I just know she is watching me dance or walk or eat or do anything at all. The Pride Party was deliciously nerve-wracking, not only being flirted with by amazing creatures, wibbly-mmaking in its own right, but knowing that it was all being observed by her... *shiver*...

No Sacrifice

Was talking to a new mate yesterday about their love life, as I settle in to my new role of Agony Uncle To The Queer (nice DV conversation last week, potential affairs advice this morning) and came to wondering about the sacrifices we sometimes make in order to be in a relationship. Not FOR another person as such, not the 'I'll stop smoking in the house so you don't have an asthma attack' kind of things, but the. pay offs that leave us ever so unsatisfied, and how we negotiate within ourselves what is able to be jettisoned and what we need to stay afloat. 'Can I live with no sex if I get lots of travel?' 'Can I deal with a drug habit if I get lots of kink?' 'Can I survive with no adventure if I get financial security?' I mean, can you transfer one positive value, one plus point for a minus somewhere else, can you balance it up? 'Well, I can never have another play piercing but she's a good cook?' 'He may not let me see my mates, but he takes me to the opera?' What is non-negotiable?

Sure, you can't do everything with your partner (in most cases). This is why I have, and maintain, a menagerie of art mates and theatre mates and dancing mates and pub mates and blood mates and all manner of people for all manner of activities-- so its not that you can't get different things from different folk. Its when having a partner stops you from getting what you need at all that concerns me.

The conversation brought back a lot of memories for me, of plays I missed seeing and clubs that disappeared before I could get there, of people I lost contact with and practices I didn't engage in and hankies I didn't flag and politics and philosophies I ignored for long periods of time. Things that MATTERED to me, that were important to my my creativity and identity and intellect and community, and that I gave up little by little to pamper the egos and insecurities and laziness, the paranoia and limitations of past partners. The sadness and stunting I engaged in to try to maintain some sort of status quo. 'You're not the same as when I met you, you're clingy and apologetic and small and flat, you're nothing like the advertising.' NO SHIT. It an awful situation to have to censor whole sections of you life, amputate or repress large portions of one's psyche!

Which is yet another reason I am so happy to have Monster. Someone to explore with, to have adventures with, to become bigger and freer with and through and alongside. Yay!

Another Girl, Another Planet

Mortgages. Shiny hotels with valet services and anonymity. Best-selling books. Coke. Home renovations. Shared custody of cat-children. Car repayments. Open-plan offices with views after-work wine and job security and holiday pay.

Sometimes I really do feel like I have slipped into another dimension. I mean, since when do I know people like that? Its all a tad confusing...

Her Shadow, On The Move

Even on holiday, 4000kms or so away from most that is new and stressful in my life, that ghost is there. Not happy just to haunt me on home turf, but always present, somehow, making certain quite pointedly that I know there are places I can never occupy, places that are hers, places she is unwilling to vacate. I don't begrudge her being nostalgic and wishing for things long gone-- we all do sometimes. Letting go is an ongoing and gradual process, and never complete. But...

Four days wasn't much of a reprieve to ask for. Of course, she is not in Sydney, but that is not the point. Neither is Monster.

Me and Her Shadow

I live in her house, shacked up with her former love and the shared custody of her cats. I eat from her plates, and cook food from her pantry and fridge in her pans. I renovate her back room, give her walls another coat of paint. I hang out with her friends, and hold parties in her yard. I sleep and sit and watch TV from her furniture. Actually, its probably her TV too. I am learning all the things she knows about favourite movies and comedians and where the string and clingwrap are kept. Sometimes I find an old anniversary card or photo stuck to the fridge or staring at me from a shelf.

I moved away from my past, my ghosts stain other sheets and get their mail in other letterboxes. This ghost isn't mine, but she still haunts me. Some days I feel like I just slipped neatly into the hole she left somehow. Often I jump at shadows and I am not sure if they are mine or hers.

And then I wonder why I am spooked.

Wherever I Lay My Hat

When am I coming 'home' then? People keep asking and...

I have started thinking of WA as home somehow. As in, 'where do you live?'. 'Basso'. Umm.. what does this all mean then? I have no history here, haven't got one single family member or ex in town, or even an ex-shag. Haven't known any of my new mates longer than six months. Have only done one performance. Never got a degree here. Still get confused when I see the sun set on the 'wrong' side. Barely know any bears. Have never got tangled up in any drunken orgies or snogs. Never got a piercing or a tattoo. Everything I am and have comes from somewhere else, yet this feels like home.

This did freak the Monster out a wee bit but maybe, as cheesy as it sounds, home IS where the heart is?

Monster Mug Shots

Love Is...

taking risks for another. Thankyou Monster.

This Will Sound Really Cocky, Or, First Among Equals

I have what I want. Not quite ever expecting to get it, it didn't occur to me that it would be quite unsure of how to cope with it if I did. But now I find myself in an odd situation, and although delighted am a bit bewildered and in need of a bit of an ego-shift. You see...

I am used to being the brightest spark in any relationship I have been in.
The one with all of the energy and passion.
The motivator, the instigator, the communicator.
The one who has been to the art galleries and outdoor sculpture exhibitions.
The one on all of the email lists, who picks up the programs and has all of the connections to be aware of anything going on.
The one who gets the invitations to openings and queer happenings.
The one who volunteers, who is involved in the community.
The one who introduces like-minded people, the networker, the facilitator, the social butterfly.
The one who works the crowd.
The one who is desired, and desires.
The one who is always curious, and hungry for new experiences.
The one who knows, and is known.
The one who has been there, done that, and is just about to do it all again.

I am NOT used to having a partner who independently tapes Gilbert and George documentaries, or even knows/remembers who G&G are/can get themselves together to tape TV program. Or who goes to lectures on indigenous spirituality, or has the guide to the independent film festival before I do, or used to volunteer at some queer kiddies' centre, or is lusted after by almost every man, woman and 'other' in any given place, who plays dress-ups as well as I do, who shapeshifts and dances,who revels in the absurd, who respects monstrosity, who actually actualises, who can quote Carroll and Lear, who makes endless wordplays and picks flowers and doesn't think I am odd for wanting to go walking amongst the fungi early on a Sunday morning. In short, I am not used to having a partner who is like my me or my mates. Its a very pleasant and liberating change.

It is a sad reflection on my pot-smoking, alcoholic, dysfunctional, socially retarded, uninspired and generally quite dull and dulled former partners and playthings that I find having such a Monster to be quite overwhelming.

It is also a very sad reflection on MYSELF. And the fact that unconsciously, though with an uneasy and increasing awareness of the fact, I have for a long time chosen partners and playthings who couldn't keep up the pace. Its an ego thing, its a power thing, its a control thing. Its the same reason I never went to a selective school and took so long to make it to Uni-- its that fear of being at the lower end of brilliant that keeps one hovering at the upper end of banal. This behaviour needs to stop NOW.

Come To Me New

Her eyes were full of tears. I had hurt her. I regretted telling her those stories about my girlfriends. I had wanted to make her laugh and she had laughed at the time. Now I had strewn our path with barbs. She didn't trust me. As a friend I had been amusing. As a lover I was lethal. I could see that. I wouldn't want to have much to do with me. I knelt on the floor and clasped her legs against my chest.

'Tell me what you want and I'll do it.'

She stroked my hair. 'I want you to come to me without a past. Those lines you've learned, forget them. Forget that you've been here before in other bedrooms in other places. Come to me new. Never say you love me until the day when you have proved it.'

-- Jeanette Winterson
Written on the Body