Coda Josh Grant

I went out dancing last night. Popped a pill and went on the hunt for some basic beats. I found what I wanted. I grooved into the night. It's what I needed, a good, mindless dance. I popped another pill. The lights were good. The music just fine. I flirted with a cute Italian boy. Nice smile, kind of wanting. Beautiful eyes, big and brown. We danced and smiled. He was with a girlfriend. They shared each other's water. I popped another pill. My eyes bled. My teeth clenched. My head floated to the roof and floated there on a wave. Bobbing. I couldn't see. My teeth ground. My sense of balance faltered from this plane to the next. Faces appeared and floated away. The Italian boy asked me something, but the ringing in my ears masked his words. He smiled. I got the sense I was supposed to answer. It seemed funny. That disconnection, half floating on another plane. My eyes bulged as I tried to focus. I laughed. I was smiling. I couldn't stop smiling. He took my han...

The guys in town today all had their “boys” out. It was sunny and singlet tops were the order of the day. Guy's 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. You just got to love it when the sun shines. Go out at lunch time just to have a perve. Small shorts, tight shorts, long shorts, baggy shorts. A visual hors d'oeuvre. But don’t stay out there too long, or you’ll be in the bog after lunch having a tug. Or maybe that's just me.

I'm sitting up in bed, as the sun comes up smoking pot. I fell asleep on the couch watching TV. I was dreaming about being lost in some religious cult. The evangelicals were blaring from the flat-screen. My head was spinning, as they all yelled religious truths at me at the same time, kind of like a chant. That's what the lost insomniacs are given a diet of, what they get when they are at their most vulnerable, sleep deprived. It's the state water-boarding gets you too, where you will admit, accept anything, I suspect. I object to them, keep that American disease in America. Surely, old movies are better for them. It seems the story of the deluded comes creeping at night, like rats. I'm going to watch some porn. It's Sunday morning, just breaking. I had a fight with M. I am alone, on the week end for the first time in, I don't know, how long. I sign in to see if Carlo is on Facebook, it's 7.30 am and he's up early sometimes. He flirted with...

My mate, Luke, comes out and says that I have the best cock of all his boyfriends. Just like that, over the crowded bar. We met up last night. We'd had a couple of beers. A few. He says it loud enough for the couple next to us to look over. She smiles. He doesn't. She looks down at the front of my pants. I feel myself squeeze my thighs together involuntarily. I stop myself from spontaneously touching it. Just. Is that an instinct for protection? I look at the couple. I feel my mouth crease into a smile, despite myself. I look back at Luke. It's got just the correct amount of girth. He smiles. He drinks his beer. I try not to blush. I can't. I don't know what to say. I stutter. When was Luke my boyfriend, I want to say, but I like the idea and I don't want to spoil it. I ask about his other boyfriends, you know, generally, not specially, I don't know about them. He confirms that Michael Brown, the guy after me, had a small one. Thought so. He was...

I’m meeting up with Luke, my somewhat of an ex. We had a thing a long time back. Now we are mates. We go out drinking sometime, 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.

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. Jump! 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.

Kevin picks me up on gaydar and I head over to his place in Collingwood. He’s cute, kind of preppy, clueless. He's cheating on his boyfriend, a country boy who went home for new year. Yeah, nice, I think. The boyfriend’s family don’t know he’s gay. He’s cute, passionate and enthusiastic and a great kisser and he loves to get fucked. A handsome, hot bottom boy, just how I like them. He put his ankles behind his head, which really made him open up. I’m still a bit out of it, as at one point, when I am on top of him looking down, for a millisecond, I look down at him and it is as if I am looking at him for the first time. I am hard up his arse, and he is pushing up onto my cock, and it is as if I am looking at him for the very first time ever. It’s the meth, it plays with your brain, which, let’s face it, is the reason we all like it. Ah, the holidays, you have got to luv ‘em. He sits on my cock after I’d taken the condom off, which freaks me out just a bit. It freaks me out even more...

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...