Coda Josh Grant

Luke and I had a photo session. I thought he'd be less than enthusiastic, but he was keen. He was happy to follow my instructions.

I went out dancing last night. It had been a busy week, work had been full on. I wanted some distraction, so I popped a pill just before midnight and went out just after midnight. I found good music and a pretty crowd, sweaty, and enthusiastically dancing. One of my favourite DJs was playing. It's what I needed, a good, mindless dance.  Yvonne was there, lurking on the edge of the dance floor, the way she does, always on the lookout, as cool as you like, so I got another pill and I popped that too. “Yvonne?” “Josh?” “You having a good night?” “It’s a bit quiet.” “Can I make is busier in a small way?” “What?” “Pill?” “How many?” “One?” “A very small way.” “It’s okay?” “I’m not standing here for my good looks.” “No.” “I’m glad I can write that off with you being gay.” “Oaky.” “Here.” “Thanks. The usual?” “Transfer?” “Yes.” “You’re a gem.” “I know.” The lights were good. The music was just fine. I got on the dance floor and danced. I love that feeling of getting high and getting on th...

The guys in town today all had their everything out on show, when I headed out for lunch. It was sunny and singlet tops and small shorts were the order of the day. Guys with muscles. Arms. Chests. Skin is best. Smiles and tans. And legs in shorts, hairy thighs, thick calves. Shorts you can see their crack up the back of as they walk. You know, the arse chew, walking up and down Collins Street . You just got to love it when the sun shines, when you go out for a sandwich. Head on a swivel, tongue out. Ha ha. It’s good to go out at lunch time just to have a perve, after dealing with demanding clients. Small shorts, tight and snug – long shorts, baggy shorts, footy shorts, all sorts of shorts. A visual smorgasbord, but don’t stay out there too long, or you’ll end up in the bog after lunch having a tug.  Or maybe that's just me.

I'm sitting up in bed smoking joint, as the sun comes up. What time is it? I fell asleep watching TV. I was dreaming about being lost in some religious cult. The rat-faced priest was holding my arm, holding me back, Sister Mother Maria was trying to stop him from stopping me. My head was spinning, as they yelled religious truths at me, kind of like a chant. When I woke, the evangelicals were blaring from the flat-screen TV. “Reeepent in the name of JeeZUS, our lord and sayvyour. Amen. Amen!  That's what the insomniacs are given a diet of, what they get when they are at their most vulnerable, sleep deprived. It's akin to water-boarding wearing you down, where you will accept anything, admit to anything, believe anything, I suspect. I so object to them, that American disease, the TV evangelist coming to Australia like a virus.  I stare at them, I smoke my joint. I allow their insanity seep into the room, if momentarily. You have to view it as satire, you have to, otherwise it...

Luke and I go out for dinner. We’ve both got nothing to do on Saturday night, so we decide to do nothing together. We go to Donatos and eat pasta. We have a bottle each of wine, as I wanted red, and he want white and neither of us were willing to compromise. “We can afford a bottle of wine each,” Luke protests. “A whole bottle each?” “Yeah, sure, don’t be a pussy.” I laugh. After we’d finished discussing everyone we know. After we’d finished denigrating the political system. When we were mildly pissed, we played fuck, marry, destroy. Luke said he’d Fuck Shia Labeouf, marry Heath Ledger, destroy Tony Abbott I said I’d fuck Wilmer Valderrama,  “Really,” said Luke. “Biggest dick in Hollywood, they say.” “Who says?” says Luke. “Over 8 inches, it is claimed.” “By who?” “By him.” “I see,” said Luke. “I’d marry Jake Gyllenhaal.” “Okay, yeah,” said Luke. “Nicest man in Hollywood.” “Okay,” said Luke. “And I’d also destroy Tony Abbot.” “What about Australians? says Luke. “I’d marry Aaron Ped...

I’m meeting up with Luke, my somewhat of an ex. Adorable little brother type. We had a thing a long time back. I could hold him in my arms, both of us lying naked on my bed, and he could blow all over me just from kissing. It was a talent. Now we are mates. We go out drinking from time to time, when his boyfriend Scott is otherwise busy. Scott and I get on fine, but Luke has a habit of calling Scott Josh whenever I am around, which does me no favours. Otherwise, Luke is cool. He is smart and sweet. He uses me as a bit of a confessional. Maybe a sounding board. He says he thinks of me as his big brother.

Never say you are sorry. It's not worth it. People take advantage of it, especially corporate people. You apologise and they smell weakness. Say you are sorry and they smell blood. Say you are sorry and suddenly you are swimming with sharks. Blame somebody else, that is the true corporate way. The true corporate law firm way, certainly. It must be somebody else’s fault. If you can’t find someone else to blame, pin it on the junior, they won’t understand until it is too late. This is HR theory 101. Those bitches in HR have refined it to the perfect art form. It is a subject in the HR degree, I believe. Then it spreads like a virus to the lawyers, the less disciplined ones first, those with less of a moral compass than is usual. Then the good ones get a dose of it too, when all those around them have been compromised and they have no other option. So, is modern corporate life a reflection of society? Or is society to blame for modern corporate life? Chicken? Egg?

Jump when I say jump! Never forget bottom boy, you are my bitch! Now jump! Jump higher, Jump faster, Jump quicker! Now jump again. And again. And again. Now jump, I say. Bend over Be gay. Be gayer! You jump when it goes into you. You jump when it comes out too. I can make you jump. Like that. Is that pain in which you are calling out? No, it’s not pain. Jump again! Jump again! Jump again! You like to jump, don’t you boy? You were made this way. Jump, Jump, Jump! Jump again, I say.

I could have stayed home all night, just me and the Chubster, yeah sure I could have. And I was going to. A good movie, of course I had a mull bowl of pot, and I’d settled in for the night, me and Chubby. Oh yeah, but you know, the movie ended, and while I had plenty more to choose from in my movie collection, I hit 1000 recently, it just started getting late, and I didn’t really feel like going to bed. Chubby already had. I had my laptop on, you know, just if a friend wanted to say hello, not sure why I’d have Gaydar open, as friends don’t usually say hello that way, although they do sometimes, of course. I get a message, he’s local, Collingwood. He says he’s home on his own and doesn’t feel like going out.  “A couple losers,” I sing, as I say, "hey" back. He says he doesn’t want any thing big and scary, I personally hate that expression, but be that as it may. He says he’d be really happy with a kiss and a cuddle and someone rubbing their cock and balls on his as we snog. A...

We went to Sircuit for New Year, Nick and Bruno, without Murray, and Jed and Trent. Sircuit was a bit boring, no dance floor. How can you do new year without dancing? We smoked meth at home before we left. We did e's in the bar, washed down with beer. We hung about drinking, we saw in the new year 3, 2, 1, “Haaaapy Neeew Year.” Kiss kiss, kiss kiss. Then we left. We buzzed all the way from Fitzroy back to Carlton. Got home around 3am. We walked from Smith Street, the streets were deserted. We danced and sang on our way. We played music and danced in my lounge room. My brother Daniel and his girlfriend Clair joined us, just appearing at some stage, I’m not sure from where. They danced with the poofs, Daniel’s an honorary gay boy, anyway. We danced until day light. Daniel and Claire headed off home. Jed and Trent headed home. Nick crashed on the couch as the sun came up. Bruno and I dirty danced after that, and when we started pashing, he went home to his boyfriend Murray. I'm no...