coincidence file > nikki

A few weeks back my housemate came home and announced "someone died". He'd heard it on the news or read it in the paper, but he couldn't remember who it was. He told me it wasn't someone famous, but the daughter of someone well known.

The only response I gave was "Angie Dickinson". My housemate said "no" so I suggested he get on the net. He found the answer quickly. It was composer Burt Bacharach's daughter, Nikki, who committed suicide early last month. Her mother was Bacharach's former wife... Angie Dickinson.

Before now the only thing I could've told you about Nikki is that I remember when she visited Australia several year ago with her mother...

I haven't blogged for a while - mainly because I'm focusing on other stuff (my brilliant career for starters), but this arvo I was prompted by dishy Tom Judson. I checked Tom's site (see links) and got listening to an interview he did last year. During the interview Tom mentions a piece of music - "Nikki" - which Burt Bacharach wrote for his daughter many years ago.

give a dog a bone

I've just been on the dog n bone for the past 2 1/2 hours to two different men. I met Matt about 20 years ago. We fell out of the closet together one drunken night at a party. I was about 20 and he was maybe 18. We became boyfriends cum best friends who shared (amongst other things & in no particular order) weirdo mind games, non-communication, magic mushrooms, mayhem and laughter. We've had periods of intense love, rivalry and friendship. We drift apart and find each other again, each time with a deeper (unspoken) understanding of what we mean to each other. Tonight was the first time we've spoken for a long time, not because of any ill feeling, but mainly because our lives have taken us to other parts of Australia. (The irony is, the name of the street Matt lives on is also my surname - makes me laugh).

We spoke for nearly 2 hours. When I got off the phone I remembered that we used to talk for that long years ago when I was in California and he was in Melbourne. Sometimes he 'd put the phone down (pre-cordless phone daze) to go and make a cup of tea or have a pee. I remember one phone bill was around $400 - and this was when Matt had a boyfriend (as someone pointed out at the time). Tonight he had a pee while we were talking (he told me). I had a joint (I didn't tell him).

Matt was the first person to break my heart. Tonight after we said goodbye I rang the second person to break my heart, Ralfie. We met nearly 11 years ago when I was 30 and he'd just turned 43. We too have had periods of intense love, passion, irritation and friendship. His beautiful dog Scruff was in the animal hospital last night, but came home today and is on the mend (some gastro yucky bug thing). We had a good old yak for half an hour or more. We talk every few daze/weeks. I told Ralfie I'm off to the Blue Mountains on Wednesday to meet with a man who's been with his boyfriend for 44 years. We marvelled at their longevity. It's rare, in my experience, to come across gay men in longterm relationships, though I find it reassuring when I do. I love the idea of growing intimately old with a partner, but I also cherish lasting friendships.

And that's what I've become aware of since getting off the blower. Then I see in front of me, as I write, a letter I got in the mail today from a friend, Rona, in Melbourne. We've known each other since Grade 2 at Primary school. It's been a couple of years since we've had contact. It means a lot to me to have loving friends in my life and the ones who have been around for a long time lift my spirits (just when I need it most) as do a few of you lovely fellow bloggers. Thanks for sticking around...

soon

sorry everyone, i drifted off for a moment. i'll be back on deck soon...