War/Peace. Matthew Vandenberg

in order to get high. But who gives a fuck anyway? We're all sinners.

      'Look – there's a reason why, right now, I appear to be having a go at people who are morally righteous or, rather, those who act as though they are, for only Buddha or Jesus can really say they were totally morally righteous, yeah? By the way – just as an aside – I believe that Jesus would have been a prostitute if condoms were around in his time. Know what – maybe he was. Anyway – I shouldn't go there. This is why I refuse to accept friend requests on my FB page, coz I don't want no shit to hit the fan. But the reason why I'm having a go at all you young Christian or Moslem guys and girls is because Beecroft is such a boring place . . . Ok, this argument's weak, I won't deny that. That's coz I am not really against religions or the practice of them, but basically just hate being bored. I have to speak at at least 200 spa, syllables per minute, as I'm doing right now, whenever I ain't doing something interesting because otherwise I'm bored as fuck. I've totally got ADHD big time.

      'So, back to the spine of my story: I met her at Macquarie University on November 23. I went back to her house in Beecroft on November 23. I left this house on November 24. Right now it is November 24. I was at the house for one night and we fucked once. Hence, I believe such events satisfy the conditions for what is commonly referred to in chick lit and popular culture as the one night stand. What can I say, the girl is obviously a Christian. She's calling me more often than that guy calls the Shakaya singer, and she's telling me we're meant to be together. When I left the house, a quaint little dwelling in a tree lined street not to far from the station, I bumped straight into a church – Adventist, and then another – Protestant, and then another – United, before finally meeting the station, who greeted me with a grin that told me he was less than satisfied at my tardiness. I tried to convince him that a group of churches were out to get me, that they had formed a gang and were intent on catching me and eating me in the way Ke$ha eats men, but the station refused to listen and sent me home on the train I recently alighted.

      'So I hate Beecroft. There's a good Thai restaurant there though, and this all you can eat pizza bar, a couple great bakeries and some damn fine girls but I'm telling you, I'm warning you, there are more churches in the district than there are females so that's gotta tell you something. Didn't see a Mosque though. In other words, Beecroft is in North Sydney, just shy of Hornsby. Oh – it's named after not one but two wives of Sir Henry Copeland, who happened to be sisters. So don't preach to me about monogamy Beecroft and your churchy tongue, you're a fuckin' sinner yourself. Fuck it, long live sinning. And I'll tell you a place that I totally love: Macquarie University. I think I might go there when I finish High. Screw the University of Newcastle, this uni is so much more prestigious. And everywhere you look there's either some fine babe or a beautiful naked stretch of lawn, not to mention heaps of tranquil forests with signs posted with details on the flora and fauna of the area, and throughout time. I'm addicted to this joint: totally right next to a massive mall as well. And yes, if you're me – or just like me -, if you're that handsome, prototypical sleazebag, then you'll find her, she'll be sitting at a small table in one of the quads, or bathing on the grassy area, by herself with one finger pressed against her bottom lip, deep in thought. Her name is . . . shit! What was her name? Oh well.'

      ******

      References

      1 Hey Ya – OutKast

      2 Imagine – John Lennon

      3 Outside – George Michael

      4 *Can You Feel It? – The Jackson 5

      JACKSON CURTIS - 11:03pm - December 15 - 2011 - TECHNICOLOR

      Like dark matter, we take up space but remain invisible to anyone but the elite of Bondi.** When energy or momentum is presumed missing this is where it's dwelling, a spell has been cast and you're in a realm sublime, separate from the world outside. Fight Club is for suckers, this is Club Love, where we pop pills and take to the sky like doves. Where we live forever. Fashion is the clothing we wear inside, on our organs, on our brain#, the bright silk garments so popular now in the year 2020AD, that change color depending on your mood and blood oxygen levels#. This is how I know who wants to fuck me.

      I step onto the stage, each stride as long as my smile: 'Bitches and gentleman, boys and toys . . . Ha ha. Thanks for turning up today. Seriously. Specially if you're a chick. You could have been anywhere else in the world tonight but you chose to be here, in the Junction. And you lot ain't the shy bunch, I'm guessin'. You're the ones with the freedom to go anywhere you like. Fuck! We're just a couple minutes from the Cross by rail, setting of the next Underbelly, and it's past ten. And look – I want you the fuck out of this joint if your parents are gonna show up any minute. Coz I'm gonna assume they're old, and probably were even old in the 60's so free love to them is nothing but hedonism, and these cunts have a hatred for hedonists, yeah?'

      I crouch on the stage. Her arm's a second from mine, a quarter second, and then time chokes as her fingers brush against my skin. She has shades on but this is all. Under the bright yellow light her body looks gold, and her arm is the smoothest, longest gold nugget I have ever touched. A heavy fringe hangs over one eye shade, a mat of fur which glistens, shimmers, shines. She smiles as she runs her finger from my arm to my waist, and as a liquid inside me runs, and I smile and place a finger to her lips to silence her, and keep her still: the subject of a painting now, the both of us, two models on display. -

      'Stay still. This'll kill the mood, but I'm here to do a comedy routine and that's what I'mma do. Besides, it's only ten. So we're a new generation, yeah? We can be original sometimes but, at other times, we can learn from past generations, act as they did. But it's our choice, not theirs, not our parents', not our fuckin' idols, but ours. We do what the fuck we want, and we learn from our mistakes. Unless your parents were – like – ten when you were born then they're a part of another generation, went to school with a bunch of kids who thought differently, watched different television shows, listened to different music. Sure . . . there was that ten-year-old Chinese chick who gave birth recently, but generally if a chick has a large waist at ten it's coz she's fat.' - I pause. A few people gasp. - 'Oh, c'mon. It's best they find out when they're ten, right? Then they can decrease food intake just a little over a longer period of time in order to shed the kilos. Do the math people. If speed by time is equal to distance and you wanna go the distance without running then you'll need plenty of time, yeah? That's solely for health reasons, of course. I think the idea that weight is inversely proportional to beauty is a complete myth, as anyone with any sense or sexual experience knows. I've been with plenty of fat chicks who are beautiful, and if you haven't then I suggest you give it a shot. It's the face that matters. Got a fucked up face then it don't matter how skinny you are. Of course, I'm a hooker so I sleep with whoever pays me anyway. But I know what turns me on . . . Like everyone here tonight. Damn, you chicks are fine.'

      The crowd cheers, and a few people clap.

      'So, we got all night. All night. And time is everything, really. Underappreciated when you think about it. Practically anything is possible with time. Anything. That's why old people get so fuckin' pissed. They start to realize that time is money, wealth, fame, whatever, just when it's starting to run out for them. And they'll say this to you, and it's pretty good advice – just not when they're in front of you with fuckin' walkin' frames at Central station when you're rushing to catch a train. Anyway: it makes perfect sense when someone tells you that starting young with something is a good idea. Fine, cool. Until the person tells you exactly what to do, says that if you do this or that then you'll be a lot better off than he is by the time you reach his age. Um . . . no, you fuckin' twat! I'd be exactly like you by the time I'm your age because what you told me to do is get a 9 to 5, do my taxes, save up heaps of money, buy a fuckin' house, buy a fuckin' car, be a fuckin' consumer, and all so that when I'm 55 I can ride any CityRail train for as long as I want for just $2.50 a day. Fuck that! Go to Manhattan and you can ride the subway up and down the stretch as long as you like, all through the night. You know who do that? The homeless. So that's it? We work all our lives so that we can become respectable homeless people? That's basically it, right? When we're old we wanna take these fuckin' cruises and shit, these trips around the world. We want complete freedom, no ties, relaxation. Um . . . we want no home duh! And I ain't sayin' this is a bad thing, perhaps it's what we all want. I'm just saying