| now is | once was | came from | heard tell |

11:47 a.m. - 2009-01-05

New Years 08-09, part 1

My friend has gone to sit and write out what she can remember of the past stretch of time, to document what's been happening in this other-other-world we've been living in, and I thought I might try to do the same. No style, I just want to get it down. Where I've been and what I've been doing.

At 6:30am on the morning of the 28th of December my friend L came to pick me up and begin the drive north, to Lismore for the big new year party and camping adventure. We pulled in to V's farm about 12 hours later, not too worse for wear. The farm already crammed with people, and more arriving, and more on the way.

L was nervous about being in this big, communal queer space. His life has taken such a turn for the white-bread, middle-of-the-road, low-risk in the last few years. He looked nervous and awkward around the big groups of earnest young queers sitting around, tattooed and pierced, drinking cheap alcohol and smoking cheap rolled cigarettes, feeling out each other's politics and sexual availability. I felt torn between him and them, as comfortable in this crew as he isn't, but still feeling responsible as his only safe person. So we escaped together often, into town, into malls and food-courts where he felt more comfortable, where things made sense (whereas in those places my eyes flinch away from the harsh lighting and the echoed noises horrify me).

Meals back at the farm are big communal feasts, vegan, gluten-free, trying to meet the challenges of a 5-page allergy manifesto stuck on to the fridge. We sit clustered on the wide back porch or crammed in around the huge wooden table, or as the population grows, anywhere you can find a spot to jam yourself. Mountains of washing up done by an army of willing hands, then crashing back out onto one of two porches for more drinks, more smokes, more flirting.

On day 2 we arrange to all go swimming together at a water-hole on a communally-owned property down the road a bit. The property is spectacular, and visiting has the distinct feeling of privilege. There's a long steep driveway, mature trees, a forest. Further down the hill we all troop down to a beautiful water-hole, strip naked together, jump in. L looks awkward at the array of nude, female-bodied queerness around him but survives it well (keeps his board shorts on though, and his distance). I swim and splash alone for the most part but fall into a cuddle perched on the waterfall with a sometime-lover-friend who I haven't slept with in a long time, but I have arranged a play-date with for the following day. Go for another swim, climb back onto the waterfall and am slung under the arm of someone who is not so much a lover as a play-mate, on-going, tension-building, going somewhere maybe but we're never very clear on where. I climb off the waterfall again and go play on the rope swing and my two maybe-sort-of-sometime-lovers shout encouragement. I realise that this is the first time in a very long time I have felt desired by even one person, let alone two.

We reluctantly leave the water-hole and come home, and as we tumble out of the car my friend asks me what my plans are for the next stretch of hours. I babble something irrelevant and she gestures to me to make a cup of tea, we find a small grove to sit for some privacy. She stares into her tea, eats some slices of oranges, sighs, begins to talk about the challenges of finding privacy without an audience in this place. I fail to twig to what's happening for a really long time (my long drought has made me oblivious to sexual tension) until finally she hurls herself in my direction and we kiss. I am surprised, so very surprised, but so pleased. Put my tea-cup down and launch into it, hot and surprised and progressing fast./p>

But we're kneeling on grass a few feet from a high-traffic footpath, and this will never do. We struggle for half an hour with where to go (we kiss against the rotted wooden door of a barn, contemplate a half-dozen not-quite-private-enough corners) and finally resign ourselves to her tent, despite the stinking heat of the day and the stinking humidity that quickly builds.

It's like fucking in a sauna but somehow we manage to go for hours, soaking all the way through every piece of bedding in there, sweating so intensely that a wave of it breaks over my hand when I run it down her back, that sweat drips from her face into my eyes and my mouth. When she pulls back to slap me hard across the thighs and arse the thin sheen of sweat makes it loud, sharp and stinging.

We lie with our heads out the flap to watch the lightning, which is like nothing I have ever seen. It splits the sky and rolls from corner to corner, violet and violent and raw. My hands and feet tingle from so much sex and the electricity in the air.

Eventually the storm fades, the most impressive storm I have ever witnessed, ridden out in a tiny little tent that stank of sex. We wander back inside, and eat the last left-overs of a dinner that came and went while we were fucking.

Day 3 is more in-town errands, feeling a bit of distance from the little world being created at the farmhouse by my constant absence from it. But I have plans. After a quick trip back to the farmhouse to pack up a toy-bag and grab the friend, I head into town to meet up with my dear friend Y. The three of us have planned an adventure for today, a filthy hotel-room adventure, and the friend who so seduced me the night before will be the willing victim.

We have her bring us cups of tea, then set her to work polishing Y's boots while we sit, chill out in the air conditioning, and plan our further adventures. She is such a lovely sight, rough & grubby butch thing on her knees. We take turns stalking her, gripping parts of her skin in our teeth and shaking her like a puppy. Knock her down and beat her up, throw her up against the wall and beat her up some more. Pierce & cut her finally, the two of us sparkling and grinning as we inflict this pain on her and she howls with it.

Y fucks her and I help, and I think it's over. But they swap a look over her shoulder and suddenly I am flattened, the two of them on top of me, and a shiny, sharp new knife is pressed into my chest. I am given 15 seconds to think about whether I want this and despite a rebellious part of me wanting to fuck them both of (I was enjoying that rare, fierce top-space), I know what's good for me and agree. So I am their victim, in the end, for this little finale that they have apparently been planning for days. The feeling of being desired expands, and fills me.

This is far too long, I will come back and keep writing after I've taken a break.

- |+

[New Years 08-09, part 1] - 2009-01-05

[The strange shape of things, right now.] - 2008-07-01

[Post-mortem] - 2007-12-22

[My life. For real.] - 2007-11-26

[Full moon] - 2007-09-27