Jayne
And so I was born – under the harvest moon: July fourth, 1958. I cried but apparently mum had a big smile on her
face!
When I was three, my sisters started crossdressing me – every day! And, oh my, they put me into the most gorgeous, frilliest, gurliest little outfits they could find. Mum didn’t even seem to mind. “Just don’t get your clothes dirty!”
I stayed as Little Jayne until I was 10. My sisters lost interest while mum told me to stop putting on dresses – it was time to become a boy again. Sob!
Puppy love licked me on the lips when I turned 11. Her name was Kath! Long brown hair, hazel eyes with a touch of fire. She was a tomboy; I was her best mate. We swam and surfed, dug for fossils and listened to Beatles records – even had our first sneaky cigarette down the end of Chatswood Station. We were together for four years. It was the most glorious time of my life! One day, when we were up in her room playing, Kath fell back onto her bed and her panties slid down her long slender legs. I saw my first vagina – Kath’s vagina! We held hands, started kissing, I undressed – awkwardly – we lay down together – but we don’t know what to do! Then we relaxed, held hands again and let Sweet Nature guide us to the heavens.
Kath Valentine died of AIDS, aged 45, stupidly – no recklessly – after a slow drift into mental illness and d**g abuse. She died peacefully, at home, with her sister by her side, holding her hand. Kath, a pioneer of the LBGTQ scene in Sydney, was mourned by thousands. The funeral was held in the Botanical Gardens, overlooking Sydney Harbour.
“Her spirit soared to heaven like a Phoenix rising”
School? Pass!
OK! Jayne is unchained now, ready to take the world by the scruff of the neck. And there’s sex – so much sex! And there’re d**gs – so many d**gs! And then there’s parties and money and cars and skiing and football and road trips and … and there’s even more, more, more and more sex.
Mad Kiwi protopunk Louise in the back of my beat-up old Holden! Late-night concerts on acid and opium, drunken tantrums, stupid fights,
Corinne! Rubenesque, Titian-haired, intellectual, brilliant writer (I did let her beat me at Scrabble once because I was such a gentleman! I had “query” on a triple-word square!). A mermaid, she could stay underwater for five minutes – we used to lie at the bottom of the ocean blowing kisses at each other. She was sweet, gentle, disarming … Corinne and I made love at midnight in the loft of an old terrace in Paddington. Through the window, the full moon sent ripples of soft light across our bed. She undressed in silhouette while I watched nervously from behind the pillows. She drew the sheet over our naked bodies, touched her finger to my lips, and we lay together until dawn. Sleep, bliss, gentle dreams!
Nikki was absolutely insatiable. Skinny, pale face, long blonde hair with a Mona Lisa smile. Nikk wanted it in the morning, she wanted it at lunch, she wanted it on the Harbour Bridge, I wanted it in the park, she wanted it in the backyard, she wanted me in bondage, I wanted her in bondage, we dressed up in corsets and heels and chased each other around my flat, we did it in my parents’ bed. It got way, way out of hand. We were living on coffee and nicotine. And we missed sooo much work. Then a drunken idiot of an old boyfriend turned up. He started hanging around outside the front door holding a cricket bat. I left town. And Nikki went straight to the top of my “Bad Girl, Great Fuck, Goodbye” list.
There was also Emma, chubby teen genius. Pru – ah, sweet, Pru! Wither did thou wander? Anne, a second-cousin, appeared on the scene. We’d almost – almost! – had an i****t scene, but that’s best forgotten about.
So many names, so many memories.
Marriage? Fuck that! Too many bitches, not enough shallow graves, I say!
It’s just gone midnight and I’m sitting here at the keyboard, a coffee at my elbow, a cigarette smouldering in the ashtray. Just typing, thinking, remembering! Alfie’s asleep on the couch, I can hear his peaceful snoring. I have to get up early. I’m off to Gundagai (where the dog sits on the tucker box!) for a couple of days’ R&R. I’ll flick on FoxTel and watch Forensic Files for an hour then hit the hay. Alfie will come to bed when I turn off the light and cuddle up at my feet.
“We are all just atoms in a universe billowing into eternity.”
This is an original work. Post it, print it out, show it to your friends, line your kitty litter box with it. I don’t care. Just make sure you tell everyone that Jayne wrote it. Kisses!
face!
When I was three, my sisters started crossdressing me – every day! And, oh my, they put me into the most gorgeous, frilliest, gurliest little outfits they could find. Mum didn’t even seem to mind. “Just don’t get your clothes dirty!”
I stayed as Little Jayne until I was 10. My sisters lost interest while mum told me to stop putting on dresses – it was time to become a boy again. Sob!
Puppy love licked me on the lips when I turned 11. Her name was Kath! Long brown hair, hazel eyes with a touch of fire. She was a tomboy; I was her best mate. We swam and surfed, dug for fossils and listened to Beatles records – even had our first sneaky cigarette down the end of Chatswood Station. We were together for four years. It was the most glorious time of my life! One day, when we were up in her room playing, Kath fell back onto her bed and her panties slid down her long slender legs. I saw my first vagina – Kath’s vagina! We held hands, started kissing, I undressed – awkwardly – we lay down together – but we don’t know what to do! Then we relaxed, held hands again and let Sweet Nature guide us to the heavens.
Kath Valentine died of AIDS, aged 45, stupidly – no recklessly – after a slow drift into mental illness and d**g abuse. She died peacefully, at home, with her sister by her side, holding her hand. Kath, a pioneer of the LBGTQ scene in Sydney, was mourned by thousands. The funeral was held in the Botanical Gardens, overlooking Sydney Harbour.
“Her spirit soared to heaven like a Phoenix rising”
School? Pass!
OK! Jayne is unchained now, ready to take the world by the scruff of the neck. And there’s sex – so much sex! And there’re d**gs – so many d**gs! And then there’s parties and money and cars and skiing and football and road trips and … and there’s even more, more, more and more sex.
Mad Kiwi protopunk Louise in the back of my beat-up old Holden! Late-night concerts on acid and opium, drunken tantrums, stupid fights,
Corinne! Rubenesque, Titian-haired, intellectual, brilliant writer (I did let her beat me at Scrabble once because I was such a gentleman! I had “query” on a triple-word square!). A mermaid, she could stay underwater for five minutes – we used to lie at the bottom of the ocean blowing kisses at each other. She was sweet, gentle, disarming … Corinne and I made love at midnight in the loft of an old terrace in Paddington. Through the window, the full moon sent ripples of soft light across our bed. She undressed in silhouette while I watched nervously from behind the pillows. She drew the sheet over our naked bodies, touched her finger to my lips, and we lay together until dawn. Sleep, bliss, gentle dreams!
Nikki was absolutely insatiable. Skinny, pale face, long blonde hair with a Mona Lisa smile. Nikk wanted it in the morning, she wanted it at lunch, she wanted it on the Harbour Bridge, I wanted it in the park, she wanted it in the backyard, she wanted me in bondage, I wanted her in bondage, we dressed up in corsets and heels and chased each other around my flat, we did it in my parents’ bed. It got way, way out of hand. We were living on coffee and nicotine. And we missed sooo much work. Then a drunken idiot of an old boyfriend turned up. He started hanging around outside the front door holding a cricket bat. I left town. And Nikki went straight to the top of my “Bad Girl, Great Fuck, Goodbye” list.
There was also Emma, chubby teen genius. Pru – ah, sweet, Pru! Wither did thou wander? Anne, a second-cousin, appeared on the scene. We’d almost – almost! – had an i****t scene, but that’s best forgotten about.
So many names, so many memories.
Marriage? Fuck that! Too many bitches, not enough shallow graves, I say!
It’s just gone midnight and I’m sitting here at the keyboard, a coffee at my elbow, a cigarette smouldering in the ashtray. Just typing, thinking, remembering! Alfie’s asleep on the couch, I can hear his peaceful snoring. I have to get up early. I’m off to Gundagai (where the dog sits on the tucker box!) for a couple of days’ R&R. I’ll flick on FoxTel and watch Forensic Files for an hour then hit the hay. Alfie will come to bed when I turn off the light and cuddle up at my feet.
“We are all just atoms in a universe billowing into eternity.”
This is an original work. Post it, print it out, show it to your friends, line your kitty litter box with it. I don’t care. Just make sure you tell everyone that Jayne wrote it. Kisses!
6年前
