My crush is not my crush


I met a girl a few months ago. Hottie with the pink hair I called her. 12 years younger and the most fun thing I have ever shared a bed with.

She’s a quarter Asian, though she doesn’t look it, as she has no pigment in her skin. She weighs 50 kg dripping wet. And she gets dripping wet.

She rides a skateboard everywhere. She cruised in to my heart for a fleeting minute and now she’s cruised off into the sunset.


She is a sexual person. A slut (her term). An ethical one.

She asked me to be buddies. She asked me. I find that so hot. A girl who knows what she wants. And she wants many partners. As do I. She’s polyamorous. She has a girlfriend. A few threesome partners and trolls tinder all day long.

The hottie, with pink hair. She craves sex all day long.

I never thought I had a chance with her. The age thing. The fact that she’s a 9/10.

We flirted constantly. I can be bad with signals and body language. But there was touching and touching is always a good sign. Still I enjoy the chase, I never made a move. She literally had to ask me.


We spoke so much about sex, we have so much in common. Her energy levels are through the roof. I watched her work, how she bossed round people much older than herself. Always in control, but with a skip in her step and a smile on her face. Her green eyes shining with a look that made my heart skip a beat.

They say a man falls for a girl through his eyes and a girl through her ears. I love to talk. Knowledgeable, on anything and every thing. I love to read constantly, absorbing information and spewing it back out to anyone that will listen.

She like the way I talked, she just wanted to listen to my voice. She saw that people look up to me. How I act, always up beat and always there to help.

We hung out a few times. But she burnt me twice. I was also getting the feels. And she’s not for that. I also don’t need that.

Were still friends, we do other stuff together. But she’s still the fittest, firmest, girl I have had in my bed since I was 19. images

girls just want to have fun


So i have been wanting to write a blog for a long time. I love to write. I haven’t done much of it. But i think that i am ok at it. And if i keep at it, and i intend to. I will get better at it. The title of this blog is I’ve got dreams to remember. Im a dreamer and a thinker. There is nothing more that i love, than being lost in my own thoughts. The Otis Redding song of the same name, is one of my favourite pieces of music.

This blog originally was going to be about me and food. Literally a journey of discovery. As i walk from one end of Enmore road in Sydney’s inner west, to the end of King St Newtown and back again. Stopping in at every single restaurant , cafe and bar along the way. Sampling the menu, reviewing the food and also asking girls to come and eat with me. Food is always better with company. And i really need to date more.

The idea has kind of grown from there. This will be a quest to better myself, and to invest in myself. To grow and stretch out like a branching tree. But to do that i need to plant seeds. Thats what this blog is. A seed.

I am an alcoholic. I will be entering a short rehab soon. This blog is to keep me on track once i am dry. For me to review the books i read. To write about the sex that i am having (or not having) , the gigs i see, and the songs i love ,the projects i am involved in, and the never ending compilation of knowledge. Hopefully this will one day, allow me to be a wise old man. got dreams to remember


Accidental Unionist

I am unemployed. I have been for a few years now. Mostly by choice I should add. Live to work. Not, work to live. I have been a slave to the bong. Now I am a slave to the bottle.

I lost my business in 2012 when my partner of many years and I separated. I lost my self. I stopped loving my self. I did seek help though, and through medication and therapy. I found myself and began to love my self again.

I found I have an ability to connect with people of all ages. People look up to me. They like what I talk about and what I do. I volunteer you see. I grow an amazing community garden of tropical and sub tropical plants. It grows along a cliff and I will write more about it.

But I also need mental stimulation. So I work most of the time for the Australian Unemployed Workers Union. I used to work in a law firm. People saw the potential in me. It was only that when I saw my own potential that I decided to find a job that truly stimulates my mind. And at the same time, gives me great satisfaction.

I fight for the underclass. I fight with my fellow unionists. I fight the government and the private for profit job networks. Fighting to end poverty, to end attacks on the poorest and most vulnerable in society. Organizing people, creating unity among the unemployed. Teaching them their rights, how to stand up for themselves and standing up for them in person when required.

I was never in an industry that had an effective union. For the last few years, if you lived in Australia. You could not escape the bashing unionism has received through royal commissions and the media. All regarding corruption at the top of the unions. But you never hear about the good work that people do at grass roots levels.

Job security has disappeared in this country. We now have a casualised work force. We have imported labour in all industries. We have exactly what the right wing has been fighting for. A nation of landlords. Now that the youth of today will never own property, university and our technical colleges are being deregulated. So that the next generations of Australia will be forced to work, due to the mountain of debt they accumulate getting work.

To bargain collectively, that is the power we humans have. Working as a team, with a common goal. For only through the strength of unity can we achieve what an individual cannot.

Join Us

Thirty Three

Yesterday I went to church on Easter Sunday. I’m an atheist. So going to church is pretty rare for me. Normally its just for weddings and funerals. I went, as I wanted something from the church. What I wanted doesn’t matter, that’s for another post. I got what I wanted though.

I was educated in a nondenominational Christian school. We had chapel, once a week. However our religious education was a broad study of all major world faiths. This helped me in my decision to be an atheist. Both my parents are, as was my paternal grandfather.I arrived late. I had woken up very early, like 4 am or so. A raging hang over, dehydrated and limp. But excited. My crush was supposed to be coming over to hang later on.

I am 33 years old. Being limp in the morning is not normal. I drink too much. While drunken sex is unbelievable fun, having whiskey dick is not.

So the service was a new one for me. The church was an Anglican one. High Church Anglican. The grand old stone church was full of smoke. The service was much like a catholic service. I sat in a pew at the back that was free and joined in. I am a polite person. I sang the hymns and recited the passages in the order of service. The reverend was around 60. He was a big bearded English man. He spoke with a booming voice. Being Easter Sunday, the service was about the resurrection.It is just by chance that I am going in to rehab at this time of the year. I have wanted something from the church for a while. The story of the resurrection is similar to what I am about to do to my life. Alcohol is my last vice.

I have spent over half my life with addiction problems. I have beaten my major one, but have always consumed too much alcohol. Alcohol is the only one that has given me physical issues such as weight gain or tremors in my hands so bad that I find it hard to SMS or erectile dysfunction. I have mostly beaten the weight. I exercise every day. When I am dry, the last bit will fall off. I am fucking excited.

After the service there was a small function in the hall. You know those little sandwich’s your grand mother made? Crusts cut off, salmon, cucumber and cream cheese. Curried egg with lettuce and chicken with mayo and cucumber.



I saw a lady from the dog park. She loves my dog. Everybody loves my dog. She asked why I was here and I burst into tears. She held me, in her arms. I pulled away. She pulled me back in. I told her my story and she told me hers. She told me Jesus Christ died and was reborn at 33. I don’t believe the re-born thing. However I do believe that I am going to totally reinvent the way I live my life.


Later I read that James Iha played with the Smashing Pumpkins for the first time in 16 years. My favourite track, by them was always 33. 33 by the smashing pumpkins



Oh and my crush never came over.

Number 33