That Insect is Stuck on the Windscreen

The cracks are starting to appear.

They made there way through the unconscious. Splintering right through a dream.

We are driving in the car through rural Bundaberg. Its pissing down with rain.

"Its nice. The way nature wanted it"

An insect is waterlogged. It cant move. Its stuck on the windscreen.

"Dont worry its nature" I thought.

Its starting to drown.

It cant fucking move.

We make our way to a little village. Basic. Just a gathering of people under two tin roofs. The people seem rough. They start throwing rocks. It was just a game. It got out of control. One girl was being targeted. Kids are coming up from close range and throwing rocks right at her face. Its fucking awful.

Mum comes up to me. I want her to go away. I need her out of my face. I start screaming 'fuck off'. I throw a rock at her face and she still doesnt go away.

I wake up in my bed screaming 'fuck off'.

Im awake and still screaming fuck off.

Mummy is still here, son....not to worry.

*

Dad, me and our visitor Jarrod, a big 22 year old ute driver from Ipswich, went down to Geoff's caravan. He's moving out, he doesnt want the caravan. We went down with a 30/30 gun to shoot the fuck out of it.

When we got there Dad fired the first shot. The gunshots echoed all over the valley, it was loud as shit. Right through the window, right through the toaster. We all laughed. We all had tears running down our face. Dad was a bad school boy from the wrong end of town once more. Jarrod took a shit. We laughed some more. His girlfriend took photos of the damage.

"Luke do you want a turn?" Dad asked me.
"Yep"
"Good boy" he said.

I put the gun on my shoulder. There was a scope with a target. I lined up the target - Geoff's cup and saucer sitting on his window pane. A flick of the trigger - in an instant the window was broken and the cup exploded.

I HIT THE FUCKING TARGET.

Dad and Jarrod pissed themselves. Ive never heard Dad laugh so much WITH something Ive done.

"Mate that was a fucking good shot" Jarrod said.

The power of a firearm is amazing. The ratio of effort to result is mindblowing. A flick of a trigger and....bam....lots of damage done.

Amongst the laughter control got lost. We fired more shots and more shots. Dad shot his microwave, his posters, his blanket, his shirt and his wardrobe.

Dad left a letter saying "it wasnt me, I was reading my bible this afternoon. I saw Luke and Jarrod on your property".

Geoff's stuff was fucked. Im not sure why he/we did it. He's our friend.

Is this how guys bond?

OR was it bullying plain and simple?

A generation ago it would have been my blanket that would have been ripped apart by bullets.

Geoff came back and he was furious. He cried. He threatened violence. Jarrod gave him money.

Mum and I went over to explain things to him.

"It was a joke that got out of hand, were sorry" I said.

He cried more. He said people always pick on him. He said people would only do that stuff to him.

He was right.

We told him we cared about him. He cheered up. He came back later that night and drunk rum with us. He doesnt have any other friends and I suppose drinking with dickheads beats sitting alone in a caravan with 13 bullet holes in it.

*

Sexuality is an issue in Bundaberg - now that's not a headline you'll see in the local paper....not for any political conspiracy, just cause its not news.

Ive prided myself in being able to put even the most homophobic straight back in their place. A couple of quick words, normally along the lines of "I wouldnt fuck u u are fat/balding/ugly" is all it takes. Straight guys are under the impression gay man are constantly horny and constantly wanting to fuck them. Speaking for myself I have eyes and ears and I wouldnt fuck the toothless redneck who says "I dont mind it as long as you dont try anything on me" - I wish I had that much self-esteem...dont flatter yourself.

Anyway, just in the past few days its occured to me that while Im not really having to tackle homophobia - apart from the balding bouncer who called me a faggot. Ha ha. What is worse is the kind of feeling that people around here are not seeing me as Luke the human as Luke the gay man.

Jarrod would not stop talking about my sexuality.

"Why dont you like women" he asked.
"Cause they remind me of you and your smelly fucking vagina" I said.

"I knew you were gay as soon as you opened your mouth"
"How so"
"I just did, your very eloquent"

Of course, in rural Queensland if your eloquent you must be eloquent.

"You walk around like a bitch"
"When?"
"In the mornings"
"Bullshit"
"Why do you walk on your tippy-toes"
"I just do"
"You walk around like a bitch in the kitchen, I felt like asking you to make me dinner"
"I would never make a fat cunt like you dinner"
"What?"
"I would never be cruel enough to give a fat yobbo cunt like you dinner. Its wrong to feed the obese"
"Im not fat"
"Well your not type"
"Why not?"
"Your far too blokey"
"Fuck u"
"U drive like a dickhead"
"Yeah and youve got flab on your stomach"
"I dont"
"U do, just like your Dad"

We got out measuring tapes. My stomach was 87cm, his was 101cm, Dad's was 108cm.

"Your closer to looking like my Dad than I am"

Game over. For now. Dont like having my defences up all the times. I know I can outsmart these guys. The problem is that I am in RURAL QUEENSLAND and I am up against the worst and severely outnumbered and Im not even talking about the guys who would actually kill a faggot if one came into to their local pub.

Then Melissa came over. Now Melissa is a young, pretty farmer girl who has just moved from the Gold Coast. She came out with us on our trip to the CENTRAL nightclub on Saturday Night. I told her about the guy I met.

"He didnt seem interested" she said.
"Well he begged me to hook with him the other day"
"Oh"
"I went on a date with him and decided he was repugnant"

Then she went on and told Mum.

Now keep in mind this girl already has gay friends.

"Luke was dancing around like a fairy"
"How?"

She then did an impersonation of me flapping my hands around.

"I liked it though"

It was vaguely correct, except without style. I had considered myself a funky dancer. Even in Townsville straight guys told me I was a 'hot dancer'. She was framing all my behaviour around my sexuality. Everything I did was gay and motivated by the fact I was gay. In those moments, I ceased to be human. Just a walking cocksucker with a pink g-string and dildo up my arse.

She went on.

"Luke was walking around cracking onto straight guys"
"Bullshit"
I never walk around cracking onto straight guys. I dont do that.
"Yeah you were"
"Fuck off I was not. I walked around talking to guys and girls, doesnt mean I was cracking onto them"

The reality of me just being a guy wanting to converse with strangers, other men for the sake of being social apparently passed her by. I was a horny faggot willing to fuck anything - especially a straight guy, yknow like all the tragic unattractive ones you see in Hollywood movies.

Piss off.

Later I complained to Mum.

"Well Melissa reckons you were walking around flirting with straight guys"
"I wasnt"
"Your lucky someone doesnt knock your head off" Mum said.

What for talking to people?????

Fuck you all.

Dumb arse country fuck heads.

I now have an excuse to leave this place. Waterloo, the beginning of the end.

Im fucking angry. I dont want to go into a 12 week program. For the first time in weeks I imagined myself back in Melbourne. In my sisters loungeroom with friends over, dancing around and snorting lines that some guy has given me. Getting dressed up, picking up twinks, going out. Falling to pieces the next day. Smoking a meth pipe. Sucking it right down through my lungs and into the depths of my soul.

When a problem seems beyond repair - IE. that I know I will always have to face attitudes like that then you stop wanting to try at life. Just a bit of relief. I cant kill the cancer, but I can get fucked up on painkillers and just imagine for a moment that things are dandy. When I take painkillers I float around on that little cloud in style.

The insect has been sit free. Im not stuck to your windscreen. I am no longer interested in nature taking its course. Pain is nature and pain can like my arse.

Oh and one more thing while I am sailing away on that little cloud I look down on you and your tractor....a very simple statement will be heard coming from the sky.

"Fuck u cunts".