Warmth
Funky music drowning our voices made a lasting impression on me. Flinders La like I’ve never seen it. To begin with the day was fucking cold and there were hooligans on the street courtesy of the Greeks and the Aussies at the G, but otherwise a normal Thursday night.
A very polite drink, according to him. I personally think that Bourbon and Coke is anything but polite. As far as I can remember, my mates have always associated Bourbon with cranky old women stressed up with their pre-menopause life.
Maybe that’s why I like bourbon so much.
When I first came to Melbourne my first impression was that this city was fucking slow. Everything moved like it was in a different dimension of time.
In a country where four different forms of identification is required just so that they can confirm that you are actually who you actually say you are and Statuary Declarations needed to prove that your Chinese name really is just your Surname, you’d never get past much if you want things done fast. Everything goes at snail pace here, even the restaurants and MAJOR SHOPPING AREAS close at 5pm. Pathetic and unheard of in Asia. You’d be losing billions if you ever considered closing at 5.
And then comes this man full of passion for life, full of energy. I grew up in a city where you’d be lost if you were too slow. Everything is happening around at light speed. Buzzing with life, constant with change. Energy flowing from every crack and corner. People “coming to life” after 11pm and “calling it a day” at 4am.
“Keep up or you’ll find yourself lagging far behind” is our policy etched in stone.
Tales from a faraway land called Vietnam where people rode on motorcycles and lived in small neat huts on the countryside. Beyond the harsh demands of everyday Capitalists societies and high-profile lifestyles, beyond the glitzy real estate and expensive four-wheels, to understand that mud and sand can bring more joy than gold and glitter. To understand that sex without love is violence, and that happiness without goals is fiction.
Amidst the Ikebana that are on display all around his apartment, I took it all in, the sights, the old record playing in the background, the drawings on the walls and Astroboy models on the shelves.
It felt safe to be in that place. It felt great to be alive.
Telling tales from our deepest realms of memory and experience, all I could think about was stopping time and capturing that moment so that I would never forget that feeling that came about when I was around him. Nothing sexual or perverse or anything of that sort. Genuine feelings of safety and comfort, genuine gestures of compromise and understanding, genuine body language of interest and intrigue. I wanted to preserve all that because it was so beautiful.
Hugging at the end of a long day with no feral agendas on either party was worth its weight in gold.
On my way home at 2am I realized how warm I felt, even in the 9 degree wind.
A very polite drink, according to him. I personally think that Bourbon and Coke is anything but polite. As far as I can remember, my mates have always associated Bourbon with cranky old women stressed up with their pre-menopause life.
Maybe that’s why I like bourbon so much.
When I first came to Melbourne my first impression was that this city was fucking slow. Everything moved like it was in a different dimension of time.
In a country where four different forms of identification is required just so that they can confirm that you are actually who you actually say you are and Statuary Declarations needed to prove that your Chinese name really is just your Surname, you’d never get past much if you want things done fast. Everything goes at snail pace here, even the restaurants and MAJOR SHOPPING AREAS close at 5pm. Pathetic and unheard of in Asia. You’d be losing billions if you ever considered closing at 5.
And then comes this man full of passion for life, full of energy. I grew up in a city where you’d be lost if you were too slow. Everything is happening around at light speed. Buzzing with life, constant with change. Energy flowing from every crack and corner. People “coming to life” after 11pm and “calling it a day” at 4am.
“Keep up or you’ll find yourself lagging far behind” is our policy etched in stone.
Tales from a faraway land called Vietnam where people rode on motorcycles and lived in small neat huts on the countryside. Beyond the harsh demands of everyday Capitalists societies and high-profile lifestyles, beyond the glitzy real estate and expensive four-wheels, to understand that mud and sand can bring more joy than gold and glitter. To understand that sex without love is violence, and that happiness without goals is fiction.
Amidst the Ikebana that are on display all around his apartment, I took it all in, the sights, the old record playing in the background, the drawings on the walls and Astroboy models on the shelves.
It felt safe to be in that place. It felt great to be alive.
Telling tales from our deepest realms of memory and experience, all I could think about was stopping time and capturing that moment so that I would never forget that feeling that came about when I was around him. Nothing sexual or perverse or anything of that sort. Genuine feelings of safety and comfort, genuine gestures of compromise and understanding, genuine body language of interest and intrigue. I wanted to preserve all that because it was so beautiful.
Hugging at the end of a long day with no feral agendas on either party was worth its weight in gold.
On my way home at 2am I realized how warm I felt, even in the 9 degree wind.
Fell from the sky at 4:04 AM
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