Disclaimer: I donít own the G-Boys.

Pairing: 4+2, 1x2 later onÖ
Warnings: yaoi, language, POV, AU

Dedication: To Lewis, just for being so great.

In This Diary
Day 4
by Jade Black

Tuesday 29th July 2003

Itís fucking well raining! What am I supposed to do in the rain? Itís like Iím trapped in here with all this water pouring down on my head- battering me in until the ceilingís ready to fall through like in one of those videos you see on TV or the aftermath of hurricanes and earthquakes and huge fucking tidal waves. But itís July- itís not supposed to be raining! Weíre supposed to be having a fucking heat wave with ice creams and girls in bikinis dancing down the beach to the trance and club music that travels across the clear and sunny skies all the way from Ibiza. We are not supposed to be stuck indoors with our sulking 12 year old brothers and drunken mothers.

I guess I could go outside- but if I did Iíd get soaked through, and what would I do and who would I see anyway? The only things around enjoying this weather are the trees that are swaying outside with the force of the droplets. I just wish I could run around outside with my friendsÖ have a rain-party or something. Put some music on with the speakers facing out of the window where they wonít get wet and short out and go dancing down the middle of the street half naked with the water pouring down around us like in some Incan ritual. Very primal sort of celebration where we all just get down and dirty with the world around us. You know- go back to nature and all that shit. It makes me want to write another poem, all about the rain. And the clouds. Perhaps Iíll do that later. Right now, I think Iím just going to put on some music and sit here working out how the drum beats can match with the pounding of the rain.

Tuesday 29th July 2003

Song of the day: Hell Is For Heroes- Retreat
Interesting notes:
// Has the devil got my number? //

Itís raining. At least this gives me an excuse not to go out. Somehow, I donít think even Mum would want me to leave the house and get soaked in this downpour. I plan to use this to my advantage.

I did a Google search for Ďrainí- and found out some general crap. It just shows you how bored I am. All I got was rainforests in peril, an internet radio site entitled R.A.I.N., some information on acid rain, a gig listing for Bob Dylanís Expecting Rain tour and a site selling new Macromedia Flash tools. A company called ĎElectric Rainí that creates 3D vector software for Flash/SWF. I get the strange feeling that should actually make some sense to me- and yet it fails miserably. The last thing I need to hear about now, though, is Flash programmes that I shall never use and rainforests that do about as much good as the monkey puzzle tree in my back yard. Think of that- people grow and talk about growing their own food and being completely self reliant- but I have my own tree so I can create my very own personal air-supply! The ultimate in self-reliance! Buy one today! Buy three and get a shrub free!!

Even the tree looks a bit wet at the moment. Its branches are drooping and big fat raindrops are rolling off the tips to crash to the ground. The tree might look a bit bewildered by all this water- but I bet inside itís screaming and jumping for joy since itís mini-drought is over. It can finally drink again- roots reaching up and out through the ground to dance to the rhythm of the droplets. Like a little festival.

I was on the net this morning (when I was researching rain) and I checked eBay at the last minute- and bid on The Atarisí album: So Long, Astoria. From the single I heard, they might be quite decent- and I need some new music anyway. I got there about half an hour before the auction was due to end- so I hung around and bid on it a couple of times- and got it. I paid through PayPal straight away- and now Iím just waiting for it to arrive. Itíll probably turn up tomorrow or Thursday, I guess. Dad asked me over breakfast to do some work for him, as well. Heís using Microsoft Excel to try and create some spread sheet to work out his bank balances- and apparently he found a template for it- but itís in the wrong currency and he canít change it, so he asked me to create one from scratch. I donít think itíll be too harder work- so Iíll probably have it finished by the time he gets in tonight. Anyway, I guess I better get on with that.

Tuesday 29th July 2003 (later)

I wrote a poem! I was just sitting staring out the window thinking of drawing the view from my kitchen in charcoal- I could just envisage the scene- black Industrial-Age-Manchester style buildingsí brickwork done in lighter charcoal- and then the rain fading in a washing everything with dirt and grime like it might once have done when it rained ash from all the crap and soot that they burnt up. And with a very post-modern scrawl of red graffiti across the wall to show Ďlight in the darknessí or some crap like that just to make it meaningful and original. And all the darkness would pool at the end of the street and filter down the sidewalk until it finally dripped down into the drain at the end of the road. Iím still thinking about doing the drawing- but instead I ended up picking up a pad and forcing a poem out of myself. I still canít believe itís raining, thoughÖ

Fat drops of water
Knocking on my window
As if asking for my company
Begging me to leave the house
And play in the solitude.
The streets are empty
The occasional car passing
Sending up a spray in its wake
But no one dares to venture
Into that watery wonderland
Cowering inside where itís still dry.
The trees love it
Their leaves battered and alive
After weeks of dry
Now they can breathe again
But we suffocate indoors
Weíre waterproof- I donít see why
We shouldnít go outside.

I think Iím going to call it ĎRainí- as inventive as I am with titles. But, I guess I havenít written anything for a while, so Iíll let myself off the title deal. The last time I wrote anything was during a teenage-angst period when I fancied someone straight. I was kinda depressed and lusty- so I wrote a lot of shite poetry about longing and want and how even linoleum could turn a sixteen year old on if they had the imagination. Shame there wasnít someone I could share it with. I wrote everything down on little bits of paper and I think theyíre all hanging around somewhere- but god only knows where I could possibly find them. At least now that Iíve started this diary and I have a place to record everything collectively. However, I started it as a record of pranks and teenage hi-jinks- but since itís raining, all you get is a moping little bastard and poetry that you wouldnít wipe your ass with. WellÖ The Lord works in mysterious ways.

on to day 5

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