Stupid goes all the way to the bone!

And here I am in wonderful Ballarat..... hmmmm.

After last week's amazing concert at Melbourne Town Hall, we went on to replicate more brilliance at the Concert Hall of the Opera House. Shortly afterwards, I proved myself a nob of the highest order by "misplacing" my mobile phone, and hence proving that my entire life does in fact revolve around that item. I have been accused of penis envy before. Nay, I don't think I have penis envy while I have a mobile phone within my grasp.

There are those that think me losing my mobile phone a blessing in disguise. There are phone numbers that date back through many blog entries, and even before, of men that I have dated, that really should have been flushed a long time ago. I was confronted last year with an "intervention" of sorts by friends who thought that I was behaving less than appropriate. At that time, they took my phone off me, and removed many phone numbers of "bad" men. But over time, numbers have accumulated and of course, many of these numbers I do not have recorded anywhere else.

So we say farewell to the sexy Priest, the best friend of girlfriend that I shagged, the many boys who remained in there despite his bad behaviour to me. We also say goodbye to B, Shrek and a few others that were never important to rate a mention here. Of course, it also means saying goodbye to the phone number of an opera star who hit on me over the weekend!!!!

So does this mean I have penis envy?

I had rather an eventful night last night, which ended with me bumbling in at around 4am, making rather an ineffectual effort at walking straight. Last night saw the choir's first of two performances of the blissful Verdi Requiem. A selection of some of Australia's finest soloists, a lovely guest conductor and of course, our good selves, meant another evening of divine and soulful music was performed. And following that, large amounts of drinking.

I began the post-concert drinking with PSD and two of his delightful friends, where we discussed all matter of things. Which of course means we talked about sex. Being out with three very attractive, intelligent and witty gay men is incredibly liberating and whole heaps of fun. We traded tips and observations, where it was stated by all present, unequivocally, that I was a gay man in a woman's body.

Apparently my scrutiny and attention to detail of the male anatomy, is rivaled only by a gay man's observations of their partners and themselves. I am not sure if I find this new revelation disturbing or somewhat charming.

It's all about timing

Many years ago I read a book which very much moved me. Whether you believe the underlying dogma or not, is inconsequential when the concept itself feels right - or at least, you wish it to be right.

The book I read was "Conversations with God", which does require either a leap of faith, or a suspension of commonly accepted reality. The author purports to be having a conversation with God, and God responds in writing "through" him. But, putting all this to one side, I enjoyed the book immensely, since it seemed to offer me some interesting alternatives to prosaic wisdom. The one thing that has stayed with me since reading the book, is the treatment in his work on "coincidences".

Have you been thinking about someone and then they ring out of the blue? Has a book seemed to say something to you just when you needed to hear it? Has a song played on the radio that just seemed to encapsulate everything you were thinking and feeling at that point? The assertion in the aforementioned book, is that these are not mere coincidences. "God" sends us what we need when we are most receptive. That song on the radio may seem particularly well-timed, but it was there when you needed to hear it to help convey a message to you. You picked up that book, and read that sentence, just when it was the right time.

OK, granted - this can sound all a little perversely trite and full of faux religious symbolism. But time and time again, it happens to me, and I am sure to all of us.

Last night, feeling overwrought by yet another disappointing week in the world of what claims to be "love-life", I bemoaned the futility of my existence. I contemplated an "It's a wonderful life" moment. Would anyone miss me if I was never here? Would the world be any different without my existence? So, as I sank into my personally dug little hole of self-pity, my phone rang. A girlfriend of mine, to whom I speak rarely due to a misfortune of geography and expensive phone bills, rang just to say she "was thinking of me". Incredibly "coincidental", but very much appreciated, and exactly what I needed.

So, believe or not, thank goodness for coincidences.

Call him my "Backup Memory"

I am a great one for discussing my life - hell, what is a blog but my way of sharing with the entire world. But invariably there are a few people who get the brunt of it face to face. Of late, PSD has proven a most impressive confidante. As always, S is also a very noble and receptive listener. But what amazes me about S is the fact that he can keep track of all the dramas (read: men) in my life. Whenever we talk about the woes of my love-life, we refer to them by their pseudonyms (as are used here). S keeps admirable track of all of them, and only gets confused when I mistakenly introduce their "real" names. I know there are lots of people who can remember useless information, like millions of Simpsons' quotes, but this truly impresses me.

Helpful too. I can always ask S, if I forget exactly who I am seeing.