Time

Is it always good to go back to the past? When you revisit somewhere from your past after so long and only fragments of the physical place remain but the people and the context are long gone, what is it? It becomes a kind of perverted theme park recreation made by a third party. Outsourced and then contracted out for production in preparation for your visit. I thought the street went straight to that station, but I actually had to turn left. Was it like that all those years ago? Has the world warped since then or has my memory begun to fade?

I take a bite of the tofu donut from the shop I always used to go to by the station. The flavor is exactly the same, the smell, the man at the counter, and the tiny plastic bag they give it to you in. My eyes become hot with tears, and it hurts to swallow as I keep eating the donut until there is nothing left.

Sometimes people and places are best left in the past.

I take one last look as I walk up the steps to the station.

Thank you.

Ghosts

After dinner, he asks me to tell him about my ghost experiences, so I begin rattling off the main ones and where the whole vision came from in my family. I’m probably halfway through the second story when he puts his hand on my shoulder, “I don’t want to hear any more; sorry, I got scared.”

I turn around and apologize, “Sorry, I thought you wanted to hear them.”

“Well, I thought you were just making it up, but your stories are too real; they’re just like the ones my parents used to tell me.”

“Well, I’m not making them up.”

“My family runs a shrine back in Kyoto, so I’ve experienced and heard enough to know what’s real and what’s made up.”

“Anyway, let’s change the topic.”

We start talking about the soft scream from Mini-Stop instead.

Cigarettes

For old times’ sake, I smoked while I was in Tokyo. I don’t know why, but I felt like it. I know it’s bad for my health, my skin, and everything.

One night, a guy I had met and I were sitting on his balcony, and he was telling me about the people he was currently dating. He turns to me and asks if he could see photos from when I was younger, so I pulled some up. He swipes through them excitedly, “If I met you looking like that, I would have dated you in an instant.” I laughed and then took another puff. What he said was rude, but I didn’t care so much. “Was that rude?” “Yeah, kind of.” “Sorry, I mean, you still look fine now.” “You don’t need to try and back track. You’ll be having this conversation with someone younger than you someday, and you’ll remember this.” We sat there in silence for a while, and he leaned in to hug me. We didn’t say anything and just looked up at the sky.

The Heart Beats Again

I’m waiting at Shinjuku Sanchome Station Exit B2, leaning on the railing along the edge of the footpath. He comes up the stairs, and we lock eyes.

We smile at each other, a slightly perplexed, dumbfounded look on both his face and mine. In that moment, I sense the bond. As we hug, I feel a familiar embrace.

Where this would go, I had (and still have no idea). For now, I will follow the feeling.

Question

I’m nursing a strong ice latte one late morning in Shinsen, and the barista is telling me about the girl he was dating from Europe. “Every time we went to Shinjuku Station, she would have a panic attack, and I had to carry her out. Is this common in Australia too?” I took one more sip before I opened my mouth to speak.

Pink Party

I’m dancing around in a euphoric state. I’m offered a gift and graciously accept. It holds more than I thought, and I know the next hour is going to be a ride. “I think I’ll need to hold onto you,” I say to my friend who I just met on the Friday. He turns to me and without hesitation responds, “Hold on tight, I’ve got you.” From there, we leave the party and jump into another world. Everything is joining up and becoming an infinite loop. Everyone’s skin becomes the color of the lights dancing on them, and for a short moment, I wonder if I have died. I realize it doesn’t bother me too much; if this is my moment, then so be it. I inhabit this world for what feels like years. I see people grow old and change and continue to dance. I see people from my past, present, and future interacting without the shackles of time and space. Everything is so harmonious. After my years-long visit, I return to the dance floor, a little wobbly on my feet but still holding on tight. I check my watch, and it’s only been 30 minutes.

Past Life

The sun is already rising, and we’ve come back to my hotel room. We get in the shower and talk casually as we wash each other before drying off and moving towards the bed. We’re both standing naked, facing each other, looking in fascination and amusement. “Why do I feel like I know you?” “I don’t know. It’s weird, isn’t it?” We embrace and let our lips touch. A familiar feeling, and I laugh as we kiss. “What?” He laughs too. “It just feels like we’ve done this before.” “Yeah, I know.” We draw closer as we continue, occasionally laughing as we tangle further and further.

The intercom rang, and as usual, he had his hoodie on, facing away from the camera. I unlocked my door and headed into the bedroom, getting into position as usual after letting him in.

This was not my first time with the discreet guy. The feelings of anxiety I had when I first met him nearly two years ago had been replaced by excitement and comfort. Anon play is not generally my thing. I made an exception once, and here we are still doing our thing.

Things to know about the discreet guy:

He likes my natural scent, not dirty but not freshly showered.

He doesn’t do penetration because he classifies himself as completely straight.

At its most basic, we make out, we cuddle and grope, and then he usually goes home.

Over time, our sessions have become longer; we talk more. Still, I will never see his face. I’ve gotten over wanting to see his face; it’s too far gone. Not seeing his face is now part of our connection.

He could be someone I see all the time; he could also be someone I have never crossed paths with. He is simultaneously everyone and no one as I walk through the world during the day.

I have learned that I get as much out of the interaction as he does. He may very well be someone around me, but when we lie in my bed, in the dark, we are two strangers being vulnerable with each other more than either of us can be in our public lives.

He told me once he could feel my sadness, and he squeezed me extra tight. It was at that point I realised and felt that this connection was something special for me too.

I struggle to be vulnerable around people I know. Struggling to make eye contact or making excessive small talk. Quick to say it’s fine or great.

The discreet guy slows me down, I don’t have to say anything, he can see it and feel it anyway.

There have been times when he asked me to cuddle him and not say anything. We would lie for hours in incomplete silence, aside from a barely noticeable tremble.

It’s been a while since our last meeting, and I’m excited for that familiar warmth, his smell, and voice. The way I can feel his smile when he’s talking to me.

The door opens; he enters and locks the door behind him. He takes his shoes off at the door, comes into my room. I hear him remove his clothes before he gets on the bed and lies on top of me. I know he’s taller than me, a bigger build. The muscles in his photos were not an exaggeration. The discreet guy wraps himself around me, squeezes tight, kisses the back of my neck, and says, “I missed this.”

My body feels electric and sensitive. I take in this feeling that comes to me less and less before kissing his forearm, “Same.”

My frantic heartbeat slows.

Hey,

Your life is so chaotic since you tore the veil down. 35 times around the sun, are you sure you aren’t tired?

You’ve been a little clumsy, but you don’t seem to worry so much anymore. Instead of going red in the face like you always did, now you just laugh and shrug it off.

How does it feel that some people who were so close now feel like strangers and some people who were strangers are starting to hold a special place in your everyday? This is a fresh new season in your life and the story arcs are all new. I won’t tell you what’s going to happen, but trust me, you are going to love it.

Your mind is still a storm but now you can start to turn the volume down when you have to. Too bad your attention span is completely fried, what is going on with that?
Don’t stress, let the algorithm tell you what is going on with that because it has already heard you talk about it.

A lover of routine, but now sometimes you completely throw it out. Learning that while routine can be grounding, you don’t want to be numbed by it. Chaos and uncertainty jolts you awake and keeps you sharp.
We all need a bit of chaos from time to time.
What good is a long life if every day looks and feels the same?

You are busy, so busy. But you like it – it energises you and makes you feel stronger. You have stopped feeling bad about it too. And remember, fuck anyone who makes you feel guilty for loving your busy life.

Your gut is usually right – you were right when there was a seismic emotional shift between dates recently and your hunch was spot on about that connection you sensed earlier in the year. But maybe turn that sensitivity down sometimes because it doesn’t always serve you to be in tune to every single little thing going on around you.

You still have your work cut out for you but I’m not going to go on too much about it. I’ve said enough this time round.

Oh – did I tell you there is a supermoon tomorrow night?
Let’s both sit out on our balconies and watch it at the same time, thinking of each other.

Anyway, go get some sleep, you look like death x

“You’re off already? You’re just so busy all the time!”

“See ya.”

It was easy to be intimate together in one setting but I got so in my head that night when you came over that I couldn’t make a move.

Some people know exactly what happened and most do not. That’s how it will stay.

Have you ever gotten high watching Fallen Angels at the Nova on a Monday night? Oh, neither have I.

“I don’t like it when you talk about that you know…”

I don’t like some of the things you talk about but I’m happy to listen because I see how you get enjoyment out of it.

“I wish I was there to see your first time!”

“What does that even mean?”

One of my biggest challenges is allowing space and pause for someone to show interest in me. I fear knowing that it may not work out even though knowing is what I desire most.

The three of us sat on this comfy corner couch with a blanket covering our legs. It was only about half an hour but my soul felt more recharged than it had in a while.

We’re waiting for the Uber you’ve called and I feel the cold go right through me. Embarrassingly I start to shiver, you laugh a little and let me cuddle you for warmth.

After eating hot pot, we all get into the spa as if to recreate the hot pot we just ate. Someone is disassociating in the pool with one of the floating toys and I’m wishing I had chocolate coated pretzels.

We laughed and made fun of each other as we trained then went upstairs and stuffed our faces. Talking for hours about life, the parts of ourselves we’re proud of and the parts that embarrass us.

It’s for moments like these that I take chances on people.

This month was rich, it was deep and intense.

I’m learning to lean more into life and embrace not just the good moments but also the bad and the clumsy.

A fuzzy brain and ghosts shuffling around on my balcony again.

Lately I cannot sleep at night and the manic euphoria of the last few months has slowly been replaced with the sobering chill of a long winter.

Active banter has fallen away to leave only jarring silence. An unease hangs like a fog blanketing the city early in the morning and it is getting hard to make out even the shapes of the buildings before me.

I feel the urge to clean, the desire to change the air.

So, I set out to clean my balcony. There is so much dirt that has built up. It takes me what feels like hours to remove the fine dust that has settled not just on the floor and walls but also the plants. How did I not see they were slowly suffocating?

After this big clean, I feel so tired that I am almost sick. My body shudders with fatigue and when I move suddenly it is as if I am struck with vertigo. Fighting the urge to just collapse where I stand, I manage to pull myself to bed, lay down and close my eyes.   

Falling into the warm depths of my mind, I’m taken to another place. It could be a dream or a memory – it does not matter because after a while they are very much interchangeable anyway.

We are sitting at the table out on the balcony together. The air is still and crisp and the full moon shines its pearly glow across the night. Without looking my way, smiling just slightly you comment on how beautiful the moon is.
Taking my gaze to the moon, I smile and say nothing.

What was it that Natsume Soseki said about the moon?

I wake up and my room is dark. Has it been hours? Days? Years even? What world am I in now?
My body feels much stronger, recovered, and energised even. Not bothering to check my phone, I walk out onto the balcony and take a seat at one of the chairs. It is just me now.

Slowly making myself comfortable, I gaze up at the bright, full moon and say to myself, “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

I’ve come out of the sentō and the prospect of going back to the apartment doesn’t seem like the right choice.

It’s my last night. My mind needs to decompress.

I don’t want to pack, think about going back at this point.

I walk in the opposite direction of the apartment and into the labyrinth of streets on this cool and calm night.

Left?

Right?

Cross that bridge?

Wherever my feet take me.

If I walked where others told me to walk then would it feel as relaxing? No. That’s why I walk my own path.

So that means that it’s time to start listening to myself more and less about what might worry others.

Sometimes we’re all a bit rude, usually we’re nice. Not surprisingly, we notice when others are rude and not so much when we ourselves are being rude.

Little plants in pots in front of houses. The hydrangeas haven’t started blooming yet.

No cars parked on the street.

One day at the start of the trip, my friend and I were walking down a smaller street just off Cat Street and this kid and his mother were buying some fruit. The kid, probably no older than five years old turned to the old man running the shop and said, “What happens to the shop when you die? Where will we buy our fruit?” The old man laughed as the mother bowed and apologised profusely.

I’ve reached a park and despite being empty and dark, does not feel unsafe.

Something about looking at flowers under the moonlight that really calms me. The colours are slightly different and they appear to take on a different form.

I’m thinking about rapid changes in behaviour. People going from hot to cold and how much I used to care about it. Now I just try my best to let them be.

A little way after the park, there’s a Family Mart down on the corner. It’s surprisingly small and doesn’t have the same kind of stock and range as the others, in particular that honey butter French toast I really like isn’t stocked. I walk out and keep going.

What lies ahead when I return?

How will it be when we cross paths again?

I think I know the answer but I’ll need to wait and find out.

I stop in the middle of the road and decide it’s time to go back. I turn around and start the journey home.

My jitters melt away, replaced with a colourful feeling of floating and a calmness I have not felt in so long.

The light splits into a thousand strands and spreads across the darkness, inescapable and intoxicating.

Has it been 5 minutes or 5 hours?

Amongst the sea of bare chests and unfocused stares, we sometimes lock eyes and smile. Occasionally a kiss and some whispers, barely audible in amongst all the noise. A hidden language only we are able to hear and understand.

Why did I keep myself tethered from freedom for so long?

I close my eyes and fall into someone’s arms. We look into each others eyes and laugh, the same inside joke.

Isn’t this paradise? We smirk this time.

Yeah, it is.

The lights build up and explode, breaking into a million falling stars that we don’t feel as they land our skin.

Someone’s body against mine and darkness once more.

The hum of an unseen air conditioning unit outside the hotel room window.

Weather warm and air slightly humid. Skin plump and dewy. Now is our time.

Every queer in town plus a few more. Side eyes at every intersection and disordered habits squeezing into those tight, tight pieces.

Laughter with friends, running from party to party, watching and egging each other on as we entangled ourselves with countless strangers.

Some of them clung on but only as long as snow fell, sweets were plentiful and invisible rivers of gold flowed. But you know, these things that cling on tend to drop off when you don’t feed them anymore.

Where am I finding this energy to go on? Surely, I’ll fall down. No time to think, just keep dancing for now. Quickly, before you sink!

We have to catch up! But I just can’t find the time. I’ll see you back home, I promise this time

I sleep lightly while that unit still hums. A cricket chirps somewhere outside.

As I awake, I see that it is overcast now, how can this be?

Everything looked so much better in the sun and under all those lights.

I can see the flaws that I couldn’t see before. The filter is gone and many things unseen through a lens are laid bare. Eyes are empty and the conversation is strained.

What happened to those sparks I thought I saw? It must have been the light reflecting off the streamers in the air.

I walk around confused and dazed for a moment but then my sense starts to kick in, this was just a hit, nothing more.

Yearning for my mundane and peaceful everyday where the highs aren’t too high and the lows aren’t too low.

It’s time to get out of here but don’t be fooled, I’ll be back to do it all again.

I close my eyes and this time I sleep real deep.

The 59 isn’t too busy this morning. The bright sunbeams break through the clouds onto the quiet streets. It seems people are still not quite ready for Monday but the world keeps turning and the tram keeps coasting along the tracks.

Two guys are taking photos of each other casually holding onto the straps dangling along the handrails above head. I’m not sure what the aim of this impromptu photo shoot is but they aren’t doing the best job. 

A group of school-girls pass their myki cards to one in their group who patiently waits for the slow machine to register before handing them back. Beep-Beep. 

It is a peaceful morning in contrast to the violent weekend I had. I wasn’t punched in the face, don’t worry. I didn’t even yell at anyone (not externally anyway). Violence comes in different forms. 

The violence of insecurity.

The violence of being disorganised. 

The violence of poor communication. 

The violence of wilfully ignoring people.

The violence of greed. 

The violence of fear. 

The violence of wanting when you are not wanted back.

If I had to pinpoint the start of this bloodbath, I would say that something shifted somewhere in the universe on Friday night while I rode the 11 tram as it zoomed down St George’s Road in Thornbury. It was just as the orange sky was being swallowed up by the night and darkness fell onto the world around me.

I entered some alternate version of reality where things pretty much looked the same, but everyone was much more violent, including myself. It took me a while to realise it. Everything seemed normal at first until I noticed the change from Saturday afternoon.

A sharp bump while I was out shopping.

Turning his head to avoid eye contact.

A glare from the distance.

Jokes being used to speak a harsh truth.

Pretending I didn’t exist.

Energetic greetings with empty eyes.

It was a lot.

While I think I’ve managed to slip back into my usual reality, being away has taken it out of me. I’m tired. My energy is low. Something is still different…not how I left things.

The violence and darkness I experienced in that other reality isn’t completely removed from this one.  It lurks in the shadows, smirking. Has it followed me?

It is frightening because I have seen the darkness in a lot of people who I didn’t see it within before. 

I saw a version of myself that I wasn’t sure I liked. Now he’s followed me here, stuck to me like a shadow. 

What does all this mean? I can’t quite grasp it yet.

Isquint ahead of me and make out that my stop is coming up so I pull the chord. The tram makes a slight bend at Haymarket.

Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. Maybe it’s all just me with my overactive imagination wanting to see more in the world than there actually is.

I get off the tram with a few others and the sun is now all but concealed by the clouds.

Or maybe it is the universe telling me that we all have violent darkness within us. Maybe the smriking reflection in the mirror is laughing because it has taken me this long to see that there were never meant to be two realities. I seperated them long ago and now they have inevitably come crashing back together. Which is why I find myself overhwhelmed and confused by everything swarming around me.

Not sure if I feel like I’ve dressed too warmly, or the tram was just hot and my body is still acclimatising to being outside.

That it’s important to see the dark in the world because we have to embrace the good and the bad together before we really see the world, before we see ourselves.

I cross the road and make my over to my appointment.

Yeah, I guess that’s it. I laugh to myself.

A cool evening in late summer with a clear sky.

I have just finished sharing watermelon with Amelie. As I make my way back to the apartment, I stop in the garden to glimpse the moon.

Big and bright in the dark starry sea, I’m transfixed by the glow as I float up into the sky. Leaving the earth and drifting weightless in the vast expanse, I feel someone pass me but I don’t see who.

They don’t see me either.

I draw closer to the surface of the moon. So close I can nearly touch it. For a second I manage to feel that powdery surface. I laugh to myself, it feels just like talcum powder.

The darkness and shape of the craters are so varied, I don’t even attempt to take it all in. For a moment I think of the someone I passed in space on the way here.

Who is this someone visiting earth while I visit their home?

As they take in the wonder of my home, do they think about who is visiting their home?

A splash in the distance from the pool, a cricket chirping unseen in the garden. The chilly breeze brings me back to earth in an instant.

I assume the visitor has been pulled back to the moon too.

What did they think as they felt the smooth, cool leaves on the bushes in the garden like I touched the talcum powder surface of their home?

The moon still hangs in the sky, illuminating the night.

I snap out of my state and walk inside the building.