we get out of the limousine. the old movie star is holding on to me and going on about finding the young guy. he slumps against the wall of the club, smokes a joint, and whines about needing the guy back in his life.
the club door opens as our entourage enters. the foyer crowd vibrates and murmurs. he’s queen around here and that stands for everything in his world.
we’re at his private booth in a flick; French champagne in crystal flutes, and waiters scurrying around. i sit back watching as he sneakily snorts some stuff with a lavender haired fashion designer who’s drifted into our queer cluster.
he’s going on about the guy again, and lavender-hair indulges his drama. he can’t get the guy fully back, has tried everything to possess him. i know the guy and he’s found a big name corporate sugar-daddy, so much richer than this dude, but it’s not my place to blab.
i should be excited i’ve ended up partying with him and his well-known lot, but i’m not the slightest bit won over. he may be wealthy and famous, and has seen and likes my work, which could lead to more for me, but i’m seriously uncomfortable here,
so mumbling bathroom, i excuse my-self, head out to the summer night street, breathe air and be with the moon, smile at him and his nervous followers, aware again i won’t crawl to anyone for gain or fame, and am pleased i never have.
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Stephen House has won many awards and nominations as a poet, playwright and actor, including two Awgie Awards from The Australian Writer’s Guild, Feast Short Story Prize, and The Goolwa Poetry Cup, and nominations including a Greenroom Best Actor Award, Tom Collins Poetry Prize, Patrick White Playwright Award and The Queensland Premier’s Drama Award. He’s received several international literature residencies from The Australia Council for the Arts, and an Asia-link India residency. His chapbook “real and unreal” was published by ICOE Press, and his next book is out soon. Stephen’s poetry is published often, and he performs his acclaimed monologues widely.
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