When I’m done, I grab all the letterbombs, flick my lighter, and set fire to them.
LETTERBOMB #7
Matt I don’t write letters with pen and paper either so we have that in common I’m like you with your first letterbomb hunting the right words best words cos I know this bomb is goodbye I’ve tried the formal letter the sappy letter even a funny letter (too soon, still) and there’s nothing honest coming out of me I am emotionally constipated so here I am having another crack tonight Zeke’s in the shower and Ahmed’s cooking soup while watching Nigella and Rex is smoking outside and I’m at the dining table where Curtis sat and it’s just hit me why a letter won’t work cos in a letter you only write what you want the other person to know and that’s not what you left me with you gave me all the shit you never planned anyone to know about you cut your chest open in front of me and let me see your heart and every artery I know you the way nobody ever will and a little letter to you will never do that the only way I can say goodbye is to show you what you showed me: here are my arteries in return Matt here is me
first off I’m not mad at you, could never be, I am just sad forever that me wrecking us also wrecked you it was my fault I was being a little shit and you were having the life crushed out of you and I didn’t know and I’m so fucken sorry I miss you every day and think all the time what our life could’ve been like if I could rewind and cram those words back into my mouth like a fistful of dirt I would do it to save you even if we still broke up I would eat that fucking dirt so stupid of me not to see the signs I should’ve asked you ‘what do you mean you wouldn’tsurvive coming out?’ but like you were the older guy and dude I thought you had your shit together I only had a scooter and you had a car and hell I was looking to you to be my saviour that night at the wharf it never occurred to me I could be your saviour and I know that’s emo but it’s like the lyric I wrote: if I could’ve been I would’ve been your roof forever
you wanted me to play a romantic song for you and you hoped I’d make it big I did only one of those I wrote this song called ‘Roof’ and if you’d been out I’d dedicate it to you every time I play it maybe I’ll try some crafty way to dedicate it to you anyway you were good at sneaking around and still having fun with me you cooked and you drank and we held each other and that summer was the happiest of my life and it fell apart and yeah I didn’t make it big but I tried and at least I never lost the little green army man you gave me and even though I did lose Zeke and Hammer I got them back like you wanted
I dunno what happens after death either if we’ll be reincarnated together one day or if it’s silence personally I hope there’s something (otherwise what, we suffer for nothing?!) and the older I get the less I think the reality is important and the more I think our imagination is all that matters so I imagine you’re in a place where you can play cricket and ride your dirt bike and sink froffies and be you and God how could you feel so bad about your teeth Matt you are a beautiful man you are hot your teeth were so fine as they were
I kept your letterbombs never told your parents about them your secret is safe but I’m going to burn them my letterbomb will set your letterbombs on fire all that poison will be gone from both of us cos you worried you’d come across ‘mental’ but you don’t you come across like a man in unbearable pain and I’ve carried that pain and I know you wouldn’t want me to so I’m letting go of it for both of us and the only one I’m keeping is that last letter you wrote me with the xo at the end I love you somuch for that you have no idea you felt sad you never said the word out loud to me but it’s okay love isn’t a word love is what we felt what we did what we made and I love you too Matt I’ll love you everlong
Charlie xo
34
UOMO LIBERO
ZEKE
I walk up the steps of Perth Steam Works. The air is warm and moist as Muscle Boy Johnny buzzes me through and I open the door.
Instead of entering the bathhouse, I walk behind the front desk and set up for my shift.
I like working here. I can wear my Tom of Finland T-shirt to work. I help guys navigate the sauna experience. I don’t have to pretend to be anyone I’m not.
Working here, I see all kinds of men. Some fat, some skinny. Some old, some young. White, Black, Asian, everything. Bears and twinks. Tradies and professionals. So many different guys finding their way in this city, coming to a dirty sanctuary where they’re welcome, where they can get what they need and be who they are, without shame.
I moved out of Curtis and Ahmed’s three weeks after the funeral. I badly wanted to live on my own and Ahmed still had Rex and Charlie to fuss over. I found a total dive in Wembley: a studio apartment in a big block of flats on Herdsman Parade, right near the swamp. I have one room, a bedroom-slash-kitchen-slash-lounge, and a dunny and shower, which I share with the redolence of my neighbours’ cigarette smoke and a bunch of cockroaches. But it’s my own place, with my Tom of Finland poster tacked up on proud display in my living room. I love it.
In my downtime, I’ve taken up a new hobby. I got a gym membership, and Jack’s taking me for my first PT session next week. I doubt I’ll become a gym junkie like him – I like food too much – but you don’t know until you try something. After all, I never thought I’d be a footy guy either, yet here I am, the newly appointed president of the Perth Centurions Football Club. When Brick found being both coach and president too much, I offered to step up and lead the club. There aren’t many clubs like us in the world. I thought of Curtis. Pioneers make new things happen. I want to be a pioneer, too.
Our first AFL 9s game is next week. We’ll probably lose. I can’t wait.
Between the footy club and the sauna, Charlie teases me that I’ve gone from Office Gay™ to a Professional Homosexual™, by which he means I’ve made my sexuality a core part of my life. Maybe I have, but I don’t feel bad about it. It feels like a natural reaction to having been repressed. I feel like I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing now.
I came of age in an era where straight people wanted to convince us things were getting better, but every other day some headline suggests bigotry is right on our doorstep and we’ve gone nowhere. I suffer when I fall into the happy Togepi illusion that homosexual men are more loved now than we used to be. I suffer less when I accept we are always going to be misunderstood, and we’re at our happiest when we are among each other.
I cope the same way the cavemen, Ug and Grug, coped; how the pirates coped; how the cowboys ofBrokeback Mountaincoped; how hoverboarder Zoltan will cope in New Sydney in the year 3000 when he finally tracks down his hot tradie at the cyber-mall.
Find a hot man who looks at you the way you look at him.
Find a safe place, where you won’t be disturbed.
And do everything you’ve ever wanted to do.
Me and Kade are gonna have so much fun.
35
FUCK AUTHORITY
CHARLIE
Thursday night at the Tool Shed is live music night.
When we reopened, I worked with Ahmed to program local performers which, tonight, is me: taking the stage with the three bandmates I’ve made amends with. Charlie Roth and the Mongrels are back for our first electric set in two years.
