“I just got your postcard”


“I just got your postcard”

“Where did you go?”

“I just got your postcard”

“You went where?”

The skype call distorted, showed half a camping lantern, and half my mum’s ear. I decided I would at least amuse myself by continuing to repeat myself.

“I just got your postcard”

“I dont think it is a very good signal”

“No, I dont think so either. I just got your postcard”.

The sound of Skype hanging up occurred, and it went back to just the ticking of the clock. A pop up message on the video program filteree through my dimly lit apartment.

Mum: R u there?

Lloyd: Yes

Mum: We… (user is typing)…. {wait 30 seconds}… We r not having a good signal.

Lloyd: Yes Mum, we are not. Another time?

Mum is offline.

Hey, it is the thought that counts. She continues to drive around Australia, currently south of Broome. Might see her in December.

On Wednesday I did the random thing of going to a local bar’s annual Drag Queen awards. Was a mate’s 30th and he thought it would be fun to do. I didnt have to work the next day and my friend Renata from work wanted to come too. One of those nights where nothing was expected (you may see a pattern forming) and we have a lot of funny memories from the evening. One being the fact Renata (female, just to specify) was asked to enter the contest, so she did. She was an absolute champion. Some of the other contestants were not sure if she was female or male, and were quite pushy for her to prove it. I had to apologise to her later for bringing her somewhere that involved her having to prove she was a woman. She laughed. And my other favourite memory was when I walked past a drag queen, and my tie (yes, I was wearing a tie) got hooked on her sequin dress. I just had to look up how to spell sequin. An awkward situation occurred. My tie was hidden underneath a plastic wig and the dress smelt like my neighbour’s Rock Eisteddfod outfit from the early 90’s. Side step, Rock Eisteddfods were and still are for schools all around Australia to perform in musical style performances (I guess a bit like Glee Club.. kinda??) and most had sequins in and bike pants. I just had to look up how to spell this as well, it is a Welsh word. BACK to the story, so I had no idea how my tie had become attached but the drag queen became a bit distressed as she did not know why I was tugging on her dress.

“Stop it!!”

Shouting over the noise of the pub, “Sorry! My tie seems to have become attached to your dress!”

“Stop it!! Now!!”

Fumbling, my hands became mixed up in masses of brown fake hair, and swirls of makeup smell slightly touched my senses though old beer quickly covered them up again. Others began to watch, wondering why I was slightly bent over this drag queen, like I was biting their back.

“Erm, sorry, tie.. wont.. unclasp or untangle! Hang on!!”

“What are you doing?? It isnt funny!”

“Trying.. to get unstuck.. ”

It did not help when others kept trying to push past in the crowded pub. I squinted my eyes and still the tie attached to the Dorothy shoe red sequins. I felt if I yanked it I would either screw up my tie or her dress. I didnt want to do the latter more so. I decided to do the smart thing of walking the way I came and bam, released.

She turned around straight away and looked might impressed (see how I use sarcasm?) and I just shrugged and kept walking. If they didnt hear me the first, second and third time, its just not gonna work.

My mate Damian and I sat in the cinema last week, we went to see a movie called “Hanna” which actually was not too bad. While we were waiting for the curtains to go up, and they actually do at this one, we heard two ladies talking nearby. The only comment that stood out was, “So my friend is doing chemo, but like, the one that does not make your hair fall out. Gosh she has lost so much weight, she looks so good!” Damian and I just looked at each other. I didnt know what to say.

Mandarins in a vase really look better than in the fridge. It is like they are now trying to make a statement, as they slightly sweat it out.

What is going on with this pen? They sell these at work. She just looks.. unsure. Perplexed?


When I hear the beginning of the kettle boiling, it makes me think of the times I was gently woken up in the lounge room under a fort of pillows, Dad boiling the kettle. I would hear the gentle distant roar, the kettle waking up from a deep sleep, louder and louder. Click of the kettle and a random clearing of the throat by my dad. Then splash of hot water filling the cold ceramic mug. That really quiet splash but so familiar. Would mean I survived the scary sleep out in the lounge room and I remember the uncertain noises coming from behind the piano when the old kitchen clock said 5:10am. I pushed the pillow wall over next to where my sister was meant to sleep until she chickened out at 9pm last night, just after ‘The Bill’ finished. She was concerned some chav’s from Tooting would get her, she was seven.. And in Australia. Anyways I was the brave one, 11 years old and king of the leather cushion and old blanket cubbyhole. It may not have been the most structurally sound but the heavy Yosemite National Park book on top of the table that held the blanket up only fell on my sister once during setup.

Oh I am on the tram. Two sets of couples were so focused on each other they both forget to hold onto a bloody pole and fall onto me. No apology either, which is fine since I never did apologise to that blind man that time, but no point making excuses.

Magnolia’s are out! First symbol winter is dying. Mike pointed out that they remind him of purple flames amongst the trees. I like this image, and bring a fire extinguisher just in case.

Marissa and I went for a spontaneous bike ride the other day. No expectations always lead to surprise. I had no idea how beautiful the scenery is by the Yarra river, we decided to ride along it. Some parts were like Wind in the Willows, some other areas were like Waterworld (the big budget flop which then became successful as a stunt show at Universal Studios), with the boardwalk for the track laid right on the river. In summary, we felt like kids going on a Saturday afternoon adventure! And we both left the day with big grins on our faces, and what more can you ask for in a day of your life? We sat there and watched the sunset over Melbourne, the faint smell of new flowers and ants taking the crumbs of cheese we left.

I had a bath tonight. My bath is about 4 foot long. So I end up having my legs scrunched up against the shower wall to fit my torso in. To an onlooker (not like I would have onlookers in this situation) it must look mighty awkward. It is just a bit less awkward for me, the one experiencing it. And I swear as I have gotten older, my hands wrinkle so much faster in the water. Is this a sign of getting older? And I will admit, I still make my bath a bubble bath. Though my shower gel sucks as bubble bath, the bubbles do not have the right consistency for relaxing. Why? Because they pop too fast and make a lot of noise and so there is no peaceful silence, just that quiet crackle, especially the ones stuck in your ear that you cant get rid of. Yep, so the reason I share this with you is because I was going onto say, I listened to a song. This was the song, reminds me of being up near Bundaberg in QLD and laying in a Spa with the ocean in the background, parrots in the trees and the worries of then were so different to any worries I have now. I am thankful for my worries now. I was not of the past worries. I will say worries just once more. There, worries.

I laid in the bat

Beef and Mushroom Pie

“Two Beef and Mushroom pies?” is announced as the waiter with the sleeve tattoo walked across to the cheap looking table.

“Yes!” Gestured a man with a black jacket (the type sold at one of those stores where they sell jackets for Dads at a low cost). He was at a totally different cheap looking table. Though this one was red cheap, the other a brown tinge cheap. Sleeve tattoo man ignored this as he placed the two pies on the brown table. The two customers at this table seemed willing receivers of these pies and silently accepted.

The jacket man casually yet more awkwardly placed his hand back down again, realizing the pie announcement was not for him. He looked around slightly, if he pretended he didn’t shout out, no one else would know. Maybe he had also ordered two pies that were the beef and mushroom variety, though he was sitting alone and to have two pies is greedy. Not like he cared about that I am sure. Back to the sports tips in the paper. The broadsheet newspaper took up all of the room on his part of the table, along with the space next to him. It is one of those unsaid rules of personal space at a café table, keep to your space, yet he had broken it. The paper was laying across the space of a young man who had flushed cheeks and a flushed red jumper to match. Red jumper guy looked at the paper then at the man, then back at the paper. It was half turned, ready for the next page of sport jargon, while he waited for his coffee. He was not staying.

The pie still hadn’t come, did he even order a pie or does he like to just accept any food coming his way? His wife Kathy was at home and so this café was brilliant for his whereabouts currently. Whether he had ordered a pie or not.

The smooth slide of a plate was heard, looking up, his pie arrived. One pie, beef and mushroom.

The little girl at the smaller cheap brown table swung her legs and grinned at jacket man. She was with Daddy and her Panini was bigger than her head and her forced pigtails. The kind of pigtails her mother was trying to encourage and tend to, like the mother’s garden hedge. They were quaint, cute and also open to other compliments by passers by, both the hedge and pigtails alike. Daddy had a pie. Pie’s are popular. Though the build up and drip of a chunk of corn and chicken that fell to the plate referred this pie to the non-beef and mushroom variety. Pies yes, though not all one variety. Though the word variety is still relevant. Daddy constantly kept his face down to his plate and ate, the girl averting her eyes back to Daddy, as Jacket man was not entertaining and nor did he smile back when she did. Looking up into her milkshake cup, metal and frosted, slight pink milk dribble down the side . She reached up to stir it casually, Daddy still staring at his pie, there seemed to be waves of concern over his face. Was it the pie causing this or the argument waiting for him later on?

Jacket man slid his chair, making a loud and attentive sound. The “I am leaving and paying” kind of sound, his chair was his instrument. Walking up to the counter, giving exact change then he left, headed back to his wife Kathy, Friday afternoons meant Sudoku and Kathy always needed help. Not the kind of help he enjoyed to give, but his duty that he had prolonged enough this afternoon.

The waitress smiled at me as she approached, “Wow, I love that sticker on your laptop!”

“Yeah, do you understand it? “

“Apple Juice!”

“Yep, you are one of the few to work that out!”

“Well its cool, where did you get it?”

“So you understand the sticker says ‘juice’ and has the shape of a juice box and then the apple symbol on my mac goes in the middle of the sticker overlay therefore combining the two and causing it to look like an ‘apple juice’ image?”

“Yeah, didn’t I confirm this before”

“I was checking.”

“Ok. So where did you get it?”

“I bought it online, I bought two as I was unsure which one to get. They were five bucks each, the other is ET interacting with the apple sign.”

“What store?? I am excited, I love it”

“Are you sure you don’t love me?”


Awkward silence. Thankfully the other waiter, tattoo sleave walked up to the conversation, “Are you guys talking about the sticker on his mac?”

“Yep, sure are.”

Sleave waiter walks up futher, “It is really cool! Apple Juice!”

“Oh so you get it too??”

“Yeah! I used to watch the Game Show ‘Catch Phrase’ so I am good with things like that!”

“Well done, you guys are a rarity!”

Both waiters smiled, and headed back behind the counter. They then continued to chat, one making a blue milkshake, a very non-descript flavor might I add, the other pushing buttons on a microwave. The microwave was black.

Forced pigtail girl and Daddy stand up and go pay. A faint smile is made from Daddy to his daughter and change is handed over. She is allowed to buy a Mars Bar also and she grins, grabbing his hand as they walk out. The cool overcast air runs over them as they exit, turning left, not right.

OK, back to writing. I am not the type to go, “Right I need plotlines and characters, who, what, where, when, why and how.” Does that matter, or does that mean I wont ever compose a story. Do musicians just play what sounds good or do they plan what climaxes and what mellow areas of the song will exist, prior to listening. I think both musicians would exist. They do exist.

“How much is a square metre of coffee?” the guy wiped his glasses while asking.

“I don’t even know what that means? Said his friend, he also had glasses but was not cleaning his.

His wife sat next to him, her face shiny yet her face dull. So it was the shiny dull look that so often occurred with her, and her sister. She was totally not interested in her husband with glasses and his mate with glasses’ conversation. She was actually assessing the lady’s shoes that just walked in.

These shoes made no sound but yet they really did scream, “Hello, I was made far away from here”. The owner’s necklace said nothing. Though she (the owner, not the necklace, necklace’s do not have a sex in this story) was another middle aged woman with blonde streaked hair that lay flat and did not necessarily promote volume, informed the Apple Juice waitress she was waiting for “someone”.

Apple Juice waitress then smiled and filled up the China Jasmine tea I ordered with hot water. She knows I do not like it strong, because the tea seems to choke your tongue, make it thick and gritty. Why do I order it? Habit, and also the way it looks when you first pour it out. There is something clean about it, happily filling up into the white ceramic. Also makes me feel grown up and mature. It does not make me grown up though, because if tea did that, life would be less complicated. Because how awkward if a four year old makes a cup of China Jasmine tea for herself (what kind of mother lets a four year old play with boiling water? Terrible mothers no doubt) and then the four year old suddenly knows how to discuss and reflect on the human experience. If this is what maturity means, awareness and knowledge of mankind’s experience. Her discussions and would not be appreciated by her peers as she enters Kindergarten in 12 months. They are all talking about who is better at jumping on the logs that are spaced out (not so evenly) in the playground. She rolls her eyes and goes down to their level.

So let us all be thankful that tea does not create maturity. The worst thing that will occur with 4 year olds, boiling water and some smuggled China Jasmine tea is soggy cake and a spilled plastic pink cup, maybe a disgruntled teddy bear. No child is hurt in this scenario, other than his/her pride. Pride to them though is also cut down when they hug a stranger’s leg, mistaking it for their dad’s leg. Mortifying, as the adults around giggle at how cute that was.

The mother with the loud bangles at the grey table is a mother that will be treasured by her twin daughters, now and in the future. She does not dress them in the same clothes, or matching clothes. One is looking like an edgey hippy child and the other, skater girl. They may be six but they know the difference between each other. One sips a Chocolate milkshake, the other a blue milkshake that Apple Juice waitress made earlier. Their mum and her friend (who is wearing an identical jacket to black jacket man earlier), chat about potted plants, and how amazing herbs are. They make dinners taste so much better. Oh and also renovations. Is there an age where this becomes interesting? I also blame those renovation shows.

The owner of the talking shoes still waits for her “someone”. She looks across at the grey table where the twins sip their milkshakes, listening to the renovation conversation. She looks as bored as her necklace is. The newspaper in front of her is invisible, only pretend focus is made. She may as well be staring at the yellow table underneath, the Booth style. Shuffling the paper and turning a page, once again, looking through the paper, words and images meaningless, her elbow slides across. She looks into her handbag, locates keys and her shoes once again silently talk the same talk as she exits. Table, newspaper and renovation talk are reasons to leave the café it seems, whether her someone was coming or not. One of the twins waves to her as she leaves, hippy twin of course.

Chef, has a chef costume on. Well, chef uniform but hey, it’s a costume if you are not a chef. It is debatable that he is a chef, Panini’s and heated up pies being the specialty, and I am pretty sure Apple Juice waitress helps. He looks happy though, Dan is at Chef’s house and has already driven to the Bottle shop, boozy night ahead. Sarah may just be a little easier this time, and Chef may not be sleeping alone tonight.

The “someone”, that the owner of the shoes was waiting for, has arrived. They have passed like ships in the night as they discuss their ship’s movements on the phone. They laugh at the analogy, well he does, as her laugh is not audible through a mobile. I so carelessly assume the laugh was there. He hangs up, his gold chain necklace would have gone so well with her lifeless one. Unsure about the shoes, he is dressed to advertise himself, his watch glinting like the golden chain. He looks safe in himself though. He sits at the same place she did, and he has adopted the newspaper she flicked through earlier with as little purpose as her attempt.

One twin (hippy twin) has gone and the other twin stays with the friend of the mother. A dumbed down conversation occurs, discussing how hard it is to focus on swimming lessons and that skater twin is a better swimmer than hippy twin. Though really, we all know that she can get away with saying this as hippy twin is not there. This would not be mutually agreed on if hippy twin was there. They also apparently only swim at one pool, they are not multi pool adapted. This is such a better discussion than the renovation one with the mums and the girl looks pleased. Renovations suck.

The owner of the shoes enters again, greets the gold chain man, her “someone” and they discuss that their ships have docked into the same harbor.

Such a beautiful analogy that they chuckle at. The newspaper is pushed aside and folded and they confirm they are both busy people. Like me, I am busy. And that they dislike lateness, he shrugs his shoulders and apologizes once again.

Scissor paper rock is played out aggressively between a child licking his icecream and his Dad, the red table welcoming another set of visitors. This game is so much fun. I wonder if another element will be added to this game ever, whether stapler could be added? Or knife? Stapler would beat paper, have a discussion about being stationery items with scissors and be smashed by rock. Stapler could then return to scissors and discuss how much it sucks to be smashed by rock but how they can crumple paper. No, they would be allies, it would not work. The original trio are different personality types with different strengths and weaknesses. I dare not meddle with a classic game passed down through the ages. So lets not even start with knife, too violent. Though scissors are banned on aircraft these days, unless they are those child safe scissors.

Gold chain man, continued to interrupt their business-like meeting by answering his constant ringing phone. His insincere apologies are answered with “its fine” style remarks with a fake laugh from the owner of the shoes. She looks across to the humming fridge, the juice she ordered from this fridge half full and half green. Green juice is going down well it seems. He just finished the call and is back into his waving hands and talking routine. He has lessened the use of hand gestures these days. His presentation about developing nations in grade 10 geography class involved a heavy inclusion of his flying around arms, and was marked down for how distracting they were.

The famous afternoon sun entered without announcement and the peeling image of Greece on the wall lights up. It looks a tad more enticing but not enticing enough to dive into, too flat and flakey. Though the sun was just giving a sneaky preview, as it fades through the overcast afternoon again and leaves the store, no goodbye is necessary. It’s presence, even though brief, was missed straight away. The older lady in the corner with the mauve glasses (her optometrist told her they were hip, and hip they are) pays for her carton of milk, smiles and shuffles out, the door ringing gently behind her. Billy is waiting on the milk.


“Hey, my name is Lloyd. Like the car.”

“The car?”

“Yeah, my mate called his car Lloyd one time.”

Had a few drinks with an old good friend the other evening. Spoke of his experience of accepting an oscar (yes, that sounds wanky to drop that in but screw it), and what was going through his mind while on that stage. One of those moments where you cannot even process what was going on and if this was actually happening. Though my favourite part of what he said is when his mother commented that when you google his name, the second search option says his name and then “gay” and the third option is his name and “boyfriend”, and in a disappointing seventh place was his name and “producer”.

Warning: Gym story ahead so to those, like myself who dislike people talking about the gym, especially on facebook, go to the next paragraph. I love the amount of old asian people in my gym. They are always smiling and exercising away, talking together. I want to be old and asian so I can talk with them.

Still talking about the gym. No, I am kidding. Horses!!

Just saw snaps of a guy being arrested in the London riots right near my old home in Brixton. I always defended Brixton as a safe place, I did not have much proof for my side of the argument and if you Google Brixton riots, there are a few words about it. But hey Jake and Blake (see my references about my fake pet gay Candadian Geese in the 2006 entries) did not seem to mind living there and they are the peaceful type.

Have you ever gotten your hand stuck inside a tissue box when reaching for one of the last tissues? You feel slightly dumber as a human being.

Off to Trivia night again tonight. This time last week I had no idea what was gonna happen in the last week. I really didnt say much in that statement. I may as well say, last week when I went to the grocery store, I had no idea my Dad was to call me on the following Saturday. Geesh. So really, what I am saying is, something unexpectedly nice has occurred since last week’s trivia and it’s fun being vague on here.

Kimbra, below. I am seeing her in a few weeks, she had that odd quirkiness that makes her music kinda creepy but good. I like this video, especially the creepy young girl dressed as a 50’s housewife.

PS – Elliot


I was asked today, if I did not grow up being told I was a sinner everyday, who would I be? I sat there being kinda cynical and thought, well I would be someone else, not me. He pushed further with the question and asked me again, “if you were not told countless times that who you were was someone who constantly did the wrong thing, who would you be?”
I didn’t know what to say. I instantly felt defensive and unsure. Stumped as such. The concept of not feeling that weight and constriction was so far away from me as a rainbow is, always moving further away if you step closer to it.
I fell into a well of thought, no bucket to bring me back up straight away, but the coolness of what that would be like, deep and dark and endless of what the possibilities of who I could be if I did not grow up that way. But then, I was reminded, I still can be all that, whether I was told that or not.

But also just want to make it clear, growing up was not a painful experience constantly. Hey it is sure, but I had such a loving and warm home. I think it can be easy to either blanket it with one coloured blanket. Multicoloured blankets are a bit more souvenir shop like and complicated. IKEA blankets that are one colour and cheap, are easy. What?

I think I had one of the best first dates of my life tonight.

I fell asleep for a nap today, set my alarm and everything, even though I am anti-nap. But I was sleepy and it was day one of four days off, so I felt the luxury was welcomed. Just like eating cheesecake even though it is pretty disgusting but if you are at wedding reception and there is no option, you will eat it. Well, I do, you may not. So yeah, nap nap nap, then I hear a distant buzzing sound. It is my phone, I look across and its 6pm. What?? I set myself a 20 minute nap at 4pm! And my drinks were at 5:30pm. Shit shit shit… I slid the touch screen to answer, “Hey, shit shit shit”. Stressed me out on two levels, I hate the feeling after waking up from a nap as you have no idea what country or time zone or dimension you are in. It may be that you are 11 again and its time to wake up for school, or you may be 55 and thought you were dreaming of when you were 27 and now you are back awake again and its mexico outside and slightly chilly. The second reason it stressed me out is that I am an on time person. This situation happened to be a date also, and the good old saying “First impressions… something or other” may could well have applied. Though thankfully, I dont think it did and it will be a story. For whatever reason, like those moments, they are stories of your life. That will be brought up, at a dinner or drinks with mates at age 37 where you go, “So I accidentally stood up a date when I napped a tad too long cause iPhone technology sucked back in 2011, and I set my alarm for 4:30am, not pm”. And my mate Barry (cause Barry is a brilliant Australian name and I aim to find a friend who has this name) will go, “Oh Lloyd, thats a funny story, it made me chuckle and relate to a time I had a nap and left the fridge running with a child inside”. I didnt say anything about whether Barry was sane or insane.

I like to ride my bike, and I shall express this thought, soon.

Location:Lansdowne St,East Melbourne,Australia