Bored to tears by violent tales of feline genealogy and death.

J’s Diary Entry

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  represents parts of his diary that my brother has sliced out and destroyed.

Friday, 9 June 1995

Wow, what a weird night. Went over the road for drinks. I decided not to drink too much, and to this noble notion I stayed true, having only 5 neat vodkas. Most of the others got drunk, apart from Simon (who never really lets go). Cav got quite sloshed in particular, and was a bit unpleasant really.  He was rude to Lisa, even though she was boring everyone to tears with violent tales of feline genealogy and death, she still didn’t deserve Cav’s abruptness and condescension.  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After a while the group reduced to myself, Cav, Lisa, Nadia and her boyfriend.  I made several attempts to leave, but Cav was insistent that I stay, and I’m not saying that to flatter myself.  He became almost abusive, making fun of me because I didn’t want to go to Fitzroy to some dive of a pub. I said that I hate Fitzroy, the place and the people and he ridiculed me for it.  We traipsed around a few upper Bourke Street pubs and settled for some divey Cafe/Restaurant/Milk Bar where we all had pasta. Nadia and her boyfriend were good company, Cav was embarrassing, he wanted me to relate the intimacies of my last sexual experience with Leah. I outlined broadly how I felt about it, not the intimacies of the actual act, but pulled myself up short and didn’t say much.

Lisa sort of half invited me to go out drinking with her some night in an oblique, theoretical way, I let it slide by.  I happened to say something about how I dislike being touched so then Cav put his hands all over me.  He was just really crude all night. I found it really embarrassing. I felt so pressured into hanging around, I should have left much earlier.

Caught a tram home around 11pm and didn’t buy a ticket.  The City felt really predatory tonight, I didn’t feel safe, there were a lot of groups of kids around. I was glad to be home. Henry the Brit at work showed me his tattoo on his right shoulder of his Staffy called Spike.  I showed him, in the spirit of the moment, my tongue piercing. He was cool about it.

S still hasn’t had her baby.

small dead cats


sketch by J originally in his letter dated 19 Feb 1993


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