The windy byelection

Gave up on the property market and decided to search elsewhere. It had been two years. I still didn't have a million dollars. Still didn't have a house.

My brain was full of trivial questions but it kept  ticking over regardless. Where is my dog going to grow old and senile? Where would I grow my zucchinis? I can cut them on the bench in this house if I move the toaster onto the microwave, but it's a bit annoying playing tetras with kitchen utensils every time you want to cook.

And where am I going to put my print of Southern Italy? I went to the trouble of framing it last week and now I need a wall to hang it on. A wall that wont fall down.

A year and a half ago, I met a boy named Stewart. Well actually that's his last name. He’s a little erratic but I love him the most and for the rest of my damned life I couldn't possibly avert my gaze from his beautiful face.

On Saturday afternoon while the Greens were losing the Batman byelection, on the shittiest, windiest day of 2018, I was standing on a corner outside East Reservoir Primary School for 12 hours with an eyeball full of dust. I was trying my best  to convince the old wogs of Reservoir to make a change in the electorate and actually vote for our policies.

The wind must have been too strong that day because it somehow blew the electorate of Batman into the hands of the Labor government. I cried. As that was happening, Stewart stood at an auction and we bought a bloody house.

It’s a brick house that can withhold my Southern Italy picture without breaking. It has a backyard for a veggie patch and a passion fruit vine. It has a big front yard for Bowie to be manic in and maybe we can get a goat or some chickens. It’s an adventure and I feel like smashing down a wall or painting everything olive green in the loudest, most obnoxious manner possible.

I got drunk on election night. The wind died but the weather remained steamy. Edinburgh gardens was full of my friends and I didn't need a jumper.

It was a warm feeling that seeped through my skin and a lightning bolt that shot through my veins and a tear that ran down my face. I don't know if it was because of the weather or the byelection, or because I was tired or delirious or if it was the gin or if I was just plain mad. The storm rolled in without any warning and I lay back, and took a very deep breath.