The Mystery Posts #1

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Ionce visited a medium. She wasn’t how I expected her to be with a veil and a wart on the end of her nose. She was much younger and prettier. “I see a man in your life with long grey hair,” she said to me. I smiled. The hair was always the first thing people noticed about him. I was young and had not long moved to Austin, Texas. I got some work decorating an Italian Restaurant called Mario’s Pizzeria. I thought it would be a case of lash the paint up and collect the cheque. No such luck, they wanted a seaside mural on the wall and I could tell I was out of my depth. A friend recommended a local artist by the name of Andy. I reached out to him and invited him down to come and see the space they wanted the mural.

I liked Andy straight away. He was an old hippie type who wore ripped 501 Jeans and he had the most beautiful light blue eyes I had ever seen… and then there was the long, flowing grey hair. He showed me a portfolio of his work which was nothing short of a total mess. It was just a collection of pictures, in no particular order. They had just been thrown in a folder. Despite this, I could tell he was a real artist and he had talent. His pictures where not the kind that belonged on a cheesy pizzeria wall, they should have been on display in a gallery.

We had a coffee at a local café and I knew straight away that he was gay. I also thought he was extremely good looking. I wasn’t looking for a relationship just then. Andy told me that his long-term partner had recently passed away and that he planned to never fall in love ever again.

So began a beautiful friendship.

I started going over to his apartment a few times a week and we would go to the cinema or drink coffee and smoke cigarettes. In time he became the gay father I had always needed growing up. I told him all my secrets, everything there was to know about me. I told him I had suffered with depression for many years and he didn’t pull away from me. Andy told me that he had been where I was and that one day soon things would get better. This was difficult for me to comprehend because my depression only ever got worse as I grew older. One night I tried to kill myself in a hot bath but after a while I realised, I wasn’t going to die. I called Andy and he rushed round to my apartment. We drove to the Emergency Room in total silence. I kept a towel wrapped around my wrist because I was too ashamed for him to see the blood. When we got to the hospital, a nurse uncovered my wrist and Andy fainted.

That weekend my parents drove up to take me home. Andy talked them out of it, realising that my parents were one of the reasons for my depression. It wasn’t that they meant me any harm, they were just filled with fears and judgements. They wanted me to see a therapist growing up to try and ‘fix me’. The last time I lived at home, my father had written out a list of rules he expected me to follow. Top of that list was written: “Lead an acceptable and moral lifestyle.” We both knew what that meant.

I never did find out what promises Andy had made to them to let me stay but somehow, he convinced them to let me go home with him. He took me back to his small, one-bedroom apartment and for the next few months he nursed me back to health. He focused on me completely, he was re-parenting me. He told me everything I needed to hear; I was a good person; he was proud to call me his friend and how nice it was having me around. Nothing too profound but these were the words I had never heard coming from my parents.

Andy had the gentlest spirit of anyone I had ever met. He was so giving that I was afraid that I was taking too much. There was hardly enough room for the two of us in his apartment. I was sleeping on a makeshift bed in the living room next to a giant mural of a deckchair under two palm trees which Andy had painted on the wall. It was a beautiful scene from a beach with the brightest blue sky. “My partner slept in that same bed when he got sick,” Andy explained. “I painted that mural to remind him of happier times.”

To be continued

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The Mystery Poster

I wonder if anyone can work out just who I am? You would need a good memory or know where to look for clues. My signature says my name is James but is that a red herring? Someone out there will know, I am sure. Just don't be bombarding Davidd for clues... maybe he doesn't know. After all, not all owls are wise.

59 Comments on “The Mystery Posts #1”

  1. Makes you wonder just how far does Jammy Toast reach? This person is in Texas and Lisa is from Canada. Didn’t we used to have a couple of people commenting from Australia?

  2. Never really known if I’m middle class or working class until very recently when I’ve realised I’m BOTH -I went to get a bottle of organic Malbec and on the way out of the shop I tripped up and I took the impact with my face and saved the wine!

  3. People will complain about possible vaccine side effects but fully trust their dealer isn’t mixing their coke with all kinds of mad chemicals and happily drink alcohol which kills thousands every year.

  4. lads love saying stuff like “i don’t like girls who…” shut the fuck up, your box room smells like the bat cave at chester zoo and you wank into empty crisp packets, no girl is arsed what ye don’t like pal.

  5. My human laughed when she saw how we were sitting. She said it looked as though we were ‘socially distancing’.We had no idea what she was talking about. Sometimes it’s difficult to understand humans, especially ours. She says weird things.


    I want some crackers,
    And I want some candy;
    I think a box of chocolates
    Would come in handy;
    And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
    Bring me a big, red India-rubber ball!

  7. Rolf report:

    Every evening this week, my American human has walked up the lane to collect me from the home of my campus mom Dr Claudia. Each evening, he’s looked up to her upstairs window & seen a little black silhouette waiting for him. He says that it melts his heart.

    Rolf x

  8. Welcome to Tippetty tap tap Thursday. You are stronger than you think. You have gotten through every bad day in your life, and you are undefeated. Winner, winner chicken dinner.

  9. Fuckin’ rain, fuckin’ sleet and fuckin’ snow, fuckin’ hail, fuckin’ sunshine, fuckin’ cloud and fuckin’ wind.

    We’ve got it fuckin’ all over the next couple of days!!

  10. On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me… three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.

    Les a mangé (translation: ate them)

  11. “I’m not taking that vaccine I don’t know what’s in it”

    Didn’t I pull you out of a K hole only last weekend?? You’ll take something that was meant for a fucking horse but won’t take a vaccine that could potentially save your life?

  12. Back in the day everyone threw piss and shit out the window from a bucket. That was normal, but now we are like “EUGH JESUS! YOU FILTHBAGS”. A load of gals double dipping their fingers into their pal’s small pot of Vaseline lip balm, will be our generation’s shit bucket.

  13. Just remembered the time Caffy was waxing & tinting my eyebrows and when she’d finished she goes “do ye want me to wax your muzzy too?” I went “erm I don’t think I have one yeno”. She goes “yes ye do Soosan” and whacked a strip on my my upper lip without permission!!

  14. My budgie broke his leg today so I made him a little splint out of a couple of Swan Vesta’s, his little face lit up when he tried to walk… Unfortunately, I forgot to remove the sandpaper from the bottom of his cage.

  15. Not a good day to fly in Birkenhead. Sorry to anyone who came along to our aerial display above Poundland… it was a wash out. Gonna spend the rest of the day inside a Dyson air blade hand dryer!

  16. Gavin Williamson is doing a great job as Education Secretary, by showing young people that anything is possible if a useless tosser like him can achieve high office.

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