away then back

nice to be in my bed again. was hoping for an early night, but i've been reading in the bath, speaking on the phone, sending messages, and watching divinyls videos. like this one:

my family weekend left me disappointed. i don't want to talk about master chef. or football. or raising children and how boys are boys and girls are girls. "get. me out. of here".

then melbourne. it wasn't until day 3, my final day, that i felt happy. stupid of me to think i could leave my worries in sydney. i wear them in melbourne, like all places. my epidermis.

a week of seven virgos:

the 1st is my 1 year old nephew. upon meeting him, as though for the first time (given that we're now able to communicate), he puts his arms out, wanting to be held. strange, in comparison to his sister's ongoing suspicion and avoidance of me. so we bond on the first day. he points to things and i take him to those things. he picks leaves from trees and i discourage him from eating them. we like each other. my niece suggests that maybe he thinks that i'm his dad. he pulls funny faces to make people laugh. i like how my brother calls him a peanut.

2 virgos are people i sleep with. though their beds, their apartments, their bodies are not a comfortable fit. i'm still unsatisfied. i'm still not escaping.

2 virgos are present only in their absence. voids i fill with other men who are typically virgo.

virgo 6 is a friend with whom i confide in about most of the other virgos. we talk in small cafés, on the streets, and in a cinema foyer, where we discuss the politics of the power bottom whilst eating honeycomb choc-tops. later i watch him perform on stage.

virgo 7 presents himself as cheeky text messages asking for presents, feigning jealousy, joking about our marriage. on my last day, from a park bench at the state library, i speak with him for the first time.

i'm left with fond memories of the last day. the film and our shared laughter, conversations around food, coffee, wine. a dinner under fluorescent lighting. things that speak to me in ways that my family and rural victoria cannot. reminders that i have forged another world in which i'm comfortable. to an extent.

it seems there's an everlasting tension between my 2 worlds that render me bilingual. sometimes it feels good to speak with two tongues. but sometimes you're only reminded that some people can never understand certain aspects of you. so you don't even bother trying. instead, you present the half as the whole. within one realm i cannot speak freely of the other. arguably there are more than 2 realms. at this moment i'm aware of the two, their distinctions, and how they each have the power to render me incomprehensible.