Tuesday, July 26, 2005

The death of suicide Tuesday

Soundtrack: Dirt Clod Fight / Hymnal

Suicide Tuesday as some of you would know is the day the previous weekend decides to not only wrap you in its slow release maudlin embrace, it also generally decides to beat you across the head and in the kidneys with a maudlin sledgehammer.

Now it IS possible to avoid Suicide Tuesday by not taking drugs, drinking absinthe and tequila, not fucking girls behind the dj console and generally staying home all cosy soft domesticated throughout the weekend and enjoying a nice DVD and a spot of gardening.

Yes, I know...it's not going to happen is it...


First, you will need to wake up in a picturesque idyllic country town with your arms wrapped around a hot naked brunette blogger and your legs wrapped around her dog.

Following this, proceed to a large comfortable cafe for dollops of brekky delights.

You can have a cigarette about now if you happen to smoke.

Follow breakfast with a brisk constitutional along the main street of a town known as the Spa Capital of Australia.

Proceed to aforementioned spa.

Have the Help fill Spa with Mud.

Place afore mentioned hot lips around your erect cock, make suitably impressed groans and gurgles.

You may fuck in the Mud Spa at this point if you so desire.

Continue spa with a nice book. I suggest Kurt Vonegut's Cats Cradle for a light yet thought provoking and thoroughly entertaining daytime read.

Hop out and find yourself some lunch, you must be hungry after such a difficult morning. YES!

Mmmm...Op Shops and Vegetable Soup? Capital!

Follow this with a leisurely two hour drive back to Melbourne, I find it amusing to impersonate robots to pass the time! You might have your own way of going completely insane!


Here it comes...

When you get home, get dressed, have a beer to calm your nerves because...


Probably, you should take a nice long slow breather at this junction.


Jump up and down, touch your old friend's penis in delight and your partner's perfectly shaped bottom in joy.


Like a man though. Not a girly EEEEK! More of a Tiger-like ROAAAWWWWW.

Unless of course, you ARE a girl.

Follow this with shots of Tequila, shots of Jagermeister, a line of cocaine and incredibly rough sex with a willing partner and I guarantee that all thoughts of Suicide Tuesday will be forever banished from your mind.

Now about Suicide Friday...

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Now I wanna, be a Blog

Soundtrack: TV on the Radio / Staring at the Sun

It's too nice a day to blog, so I leave you with this.


Tuesday, July 19, 2005

He's acting dumb. That's what you've come to expect.

Soundtrack: Elliott Smith / Needle in the Hay.

Actually fuck it, it's that entire scene from The Royal Tenenbaums.

And follow it up then with Archers of Loaf / Learo, you're a hole.


Apparently, apparently, Saturn my ruling planet has finally fucked off out of my starsign which means that, apparently, all this fucking chaos and confusion and weird fucked up mind numbing, soul freezing angst and turmoil and flowing, firey, flaming fucking feelings finally fuck the fuck out of my life.


I'm ready.

And I can't tell if this is just another night, I can't tell you I'll be back tomorrow, I can't promise I won't fall...but at least THIS familiar feeling is one of you know what?

I've seen shit.

And I lived through it all.

And now, I've lived through this too.

Wrinkles can look sexy on a guy, and I plan to use mine appropriately.

This frown? It's not anger, and it's not pain.

It's memory.

Memory and strength and concen-fucking-tration so as not to repeat the same old mistakes, the same boring as Hell, still just a teenager inside mistakes.

Like I said, no promises. But it's nice to feel strong sometimes. Not closed off, not carrying the weight of a stone heart beating lava and granite through me, but just...Okay about life again.

There's a sign in the dressing room at Wimbledon and it says something like:

You have truly won when you view victory and defeat in the same manner.

Yeah, it's weird. But I think I get it.

I think I want to be calm.

No matter what.

*takes more valium*



Monday, July 18, 2005

Are you talking to me?

Soundtrack: Sons and Daughters / Medicine

If it's good enough for Tony, it's good enough for me.

Cryptic enough?

Hi. Hope you're well and feeling sexy.



Ps: Since I deleted this blog and started again Canal Stats has cleared all the old search terms that used to link to this blog and started from scratch. There is only one there at the moment.

It's: Make A Boy Cum.

Happy days...

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Light. Tunnel. End.

Close the door and drift away
Into a sea of uncertainty
Where all your hopes and dreams
Have faded out of reach
Remember all the bad dreams
Are not far from reality
Would you write again for me?

(let me whisper something in your ear).

And you awake and there you are
Not far off from the line before
And just how long did it take for you to understand
Where your feelings stopped and writing began
Convince yourself to take control
Play to the hilt this unlikely role

Remember all the bad dreams
Are not far from reality
Would you write again for me?
And who bade you stop this living art?
Have you forgotten just what you are?
If you don't want to then you could at least pretend
That the paper's your soul and your blood's the pen
And maybe then you'd see the light
And read the truth that you had to write

If heaven sent you downstream
Where banished eyes haven't been
Would you smile again for me?
You misread your fate line
Had long run out ahead of time
Would you write again for me?

And you awake and there you are
Not far off from the line before
And just how long did it take for you to understand
Where your feelings stopped and writing began
Convince yourself to take control
Play to the hilt this unlikely role

If heaven sent you downstream
Where banished eyes haven't been
Would you smile again for me?

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Shy Boys Are My Weakness

Soundtrack: Les Savy Fav / We'll Make A Lover Of You

I'm not known as a public speaker. When it comes to doing embarrassing things in public, I prefer being caught behind a bush with my pants around my ankles and someone's legs wrapped around my waist. Or like the time my ex and I were caught fucking in a bush by three 10 year old boys who proceeded to throw tennis balls at us. Hit me right in the arse the little bastards...

Anyhoo, last night at the behest of the Future Prime Minister of Australia, I made a speech to a sizeable gathering of the Young Labor Left. I guess this was either because Tillops knows that I am an eloquent, passionate supporter of Left Wing Politics in this country, or because the poor guy must've REALLY been desperate.

Thankfully during my speech, the Young Labor Stayed.

Some things I probably shouldn't have done:

*Walked up to the microphone with a can of beer, a lit cigarette and an ashtray trying to look like Bill Hicks.

*Opened with the line, Hi. I'm mattyb and I'm an alcoholic.

*Tried to find a door handle on the concrete wall behind me after making everyone look the other way so I could make some sort of quick escape.

*When that didn't work, tried to envoke an Acme Magic Hole that I could toss on aforementioned wall and disappear through.

*Refer to my old workplace as Cocaine Central.

*Say cunting fuck shit cunt fuck.

*A lot.

*I certainly shouldn't have started to think about having sex with the girl in the front row halfway through my speech which made me lose my train of thought and just stand there drinking beer in front of everyone saying, well...this is the part where I just drink a beer.

*Started laughing to myself as I debated whether or not a meeting of the Young Labor Left was the right audience to start busting out all my rape jokes.

*And my funny Chinese voices. Yes, I contemplated doing the "flapping dicky"

*Tried to somehow tie in the fact that we created our magazine as a way to get drunk all the time and Australian Federal Politics.

*Been there at all.

But truly it was fun, I blushed like a cunt, swore like a trooper, drank like Bukowski.

Unfortunately I was too shy to get the girl in the front row's phone number because I swear to fucking god, it was like being Professor Indiana Jones the way she just stared and stared and blinked and licked her lips....ugh.

Thanks Tillops. Bastard.




Sunday, July 10, 2005

I like Aeroplane Jelly

Soundtrack: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club / Whatever Happened To My Rock n' Roll

I think I may be getting old.

Which is a damn shame for those of you who have come here over the months in breathless anticipation of more Fuck stories and Hooker stories and Gangbang tales...Not, of course, that I'm quite done with any of that just yet.

My cock is as rampant and angry as ever. Perhaps more so.

In a nice way though.

Wave hello, Vanilla Thriller.

*impersonates own cock waving*

Can you tell that I have a fever? Surely impersonating my own cock is a sign.


Nein. Enough of that.

Surely I must be getting old because I am finding the thoughts of slippers and a heater more attractive by the day. Slippers and a heater and...


Surely I must be getting sick because I'm now avoiding work by writing the stupidest fucking post I have ever written about getting old and being sick. Buggugger.

*drags it back to Old School Sherriff, except this time with extra tissues*

Have you ever had sex on an aeroplane? I have. It began when my travelling partner rested her head on my lap with a blanket over us, everyone else in the plane was asleep. Not even a mouse, sort o' thing. Dig? Dug.

Not long after that, I was surprised to find my cock in her mouth. Well, not surprised, just...hehehe...


Normally, this is quite exciting for me, and it was then too except for some reason I couldn't stop laughing. I have it from reliable sources nowadays that laughing is not the sort of reaction a girl wants when she's sucking your cock but for some reason I just couldn't help it...so, stifling my laughter I ventured the invite all us young libidinous creatures dream of during long boring flights and motioned toward the back of the plane.

It was dark, the lights were out and hot and heavy and breathing fast we stumbled into the toilet and latched the door behind us.

Hands fumbling, skirt up, pants down, one of us bent forward as we both looked in the mirror and smiled and we had THAT look in our eyes until...


What was I saying?

Sorry guys, I'm sick...

Thursday, July 7, 2005


Soundtrack: Coldcut / Atomic Moog 2000

I have a friend in London, she is missing. This makes me sad. I have a friend in Melbourne, she is missing too. This makes me sadder. Wrong?

Sometimes, in the past, I have been able to channel all my freaked out emotional chaos into some sort of literate Blog Post.

Today, I find only the words...

adhsjaknd lakndklandmand wjejklandf alwkdandjandajndan nadjandandnadn

Shan, I hope you are safe.
Melbourne friend...dloajdilkandjaklndandoalnd




Soundtrack: New Order / Substance

Wednesday, July 6, 2005



This is so fucking WEIRD.

Tuesday, July 5, 2005

Amazon Life List

Soundtrack: Stones / You can't always get what you want

Whatevs. As I am uninspired and busy I'm putting a spin on it chicks.

What Matty Wants.

I want my life to be in Black and White so it looks a Hell of a lot cooler.

Though spontaneity is my forte, I want to be better at organising things.

I want a partner for life, who will always enjoy just sitting with me and drinking coffee. As though each time is the first time we have done it.

I want another Kitty.

I want to be able to live a spiritual life without it being a religious one.

I want to stop and cry and laugh at the fucking craziness and chaos and beauty in nature.

I want to leave an impression.

I want to meet up with a beautiful girl in a street and see her smiling at me.

I want to be able to indulge my sweet tooth anywhere, anytime.

I want to live in a house shaped like a Giant Frog on a mountain in Japan.

I want you to miss me when I'm gone.

*Pics from here


How could I forget...