Splish Splash I Was Takin' A Bath!

Hi there, buddy!

I’m writing to you from my claw foot bath tub here at the City Bath house in Swanston Street. It’s just down the road from your favourite Japanese curry place and you bet, it’s still open. I had a tantalizing chicken teriyaki there just the other day. So why am I taking a bath in the middle of the day, you might ask? Unfortunately my skin condition is still persisting and it looks like it might be an allergic response to the dust mites in my apartment; so I’ve hurried down here to throw myself into a steaming hot tub and drown the little buggers. It seems the little critters have multiplied to epidemic proportions and run me out of town, my friend. Of course, they’re present in everyone’s home but they can precipitate an allergic reaction in immuno suppressed individuals like myself. I’ve been scratching like mad for weeks, tossing and turning at night, feeling like things are crawlling over my scalp and into my ears. No one’s come to visit in weeks!
It came to a head the other day when I moved all the furniture and washed every cushion and item of clothing in the place. I was up to my neck in public housing dust, buddy. I filled that old vacuum three times before I was pooped and by that stage, my skin was so inflamed, I felt like I was on fire; I nearly ran down to the Yarra and threw myself into that smelly old river. Never mind the e. coli, I was out of my mind, Lars honey.
Things have settled since then, but it sure made me think twice about bringing second hand furniture home from the thrift store and letting the dust build up on the skirting boards. I’ve investigated everything the last three months; scabies, syphillus, drug toxicity, wheat allergies, poor kidney function. Can you see why I don’t have time to work for a living?
Thank God for these public baths is all I can say. At 2-50 a tub it’s unbeatable value. Man, they’re so deep and wide you could fit another fella in here; that’s the only other thing that’d make this experience superb, buddy! I won’t tell you how I’m keeping myself amused right now. I’ve tossed in a few drops of sweet almond oil to make my skin smooth and supple and a sprinkle of sea salt to cleanse the pores. Next time I’ll bring my rubber ducky and sea shells, maybe some lavender oil or vanilla scented candles. Whew! I’m so hot right now, buddy. Maybe I should accidentally push the emergency button so the guy out front will come and resuscitate me!
I’m sorry, man, I think my daily Qi Gong practice is over stimulating my dan tien region which is located right above the testicles. That’d explain my lascivious yearnings of late! It’s part of the healing routine I do each day along with meditation, prayer and affirmation. It’s had the strange effect of reigniting my sexual urges and forcing me onto the public like a bitch on heat. This weekend, fuelled by a chapter from a Deepak Chopra book about the need for passion in one’s life, I found myself staking out the gay beach on Port Phillip Bay. I walked for two hours through sand castles and sand pits before I reached those smutty shores at the end of the bay. Can you imagine, walking through all that family fun one minute and stumbling upon two naked men sprawled on top of each other like a tortoise and its shell? There’s a dirty old factory and a refinery in the background and a scrub behind the dunes where men in suits, laborers and queens in speedos play hide and seek. There was even a huge Nazi symbol engraved in the sand by the water; you German get around, buddy!
Unfortunately I started getting all weak in the knees, feeling intimidated by the whole scene so I swaggered off to the bus with my chastity intact! I think I just love to tease myself out there. To my pleasant surprise, my favourite Japanese driver was at the helm of that bus. He wears a bizarre hearing device and gives me the cheesiest grin and the most suggestive wink you ever saw. He blares rock n’ roll music and gives the finger to inconsiderate drivers when we pass through the city; calling them idiots and fools in Japanese. He calls me ‘cousin’ at the end of the journey and I wink straight back.
Oh Lars honey, I’m almost done soaking in this tub so I’ll have to sign off; I’m so glad you could join me! It almost feels like you’re sitting in that rickety old chair in the corner. If only you were, you could pass me a towel and help me get outta this thing without breaking my neck!

By the way, is your mother really in Nigeria? I saw a short for a documentary about the capital city, Lagos. They said it was ‘hell on Earth’ – the most polluted, over populated place in Africa. Apparently there’s a car jacking every five minutes and the highest murder rate you can imagine? If that’s true, your mother must be a real brave woman, son. Send her my best wishes.

Love to you, buddy
Your pal, JJ x