Oh, bluecat, I have never heard anything so wonderful said about me. I wish I could show Phillip how something like this is done when it is done really well ....

Speaking of literature and fucking: when I did "Macbeth" in my drama project, our two young protagonists playing the King and his Lady didn't relate to each other so well in the beginning. We talked about their parts and did what one calls a role-biography: saying as much as possible about the two characters' lives. I brought up the question if they thought Macbeth and his Lady still had sex after their big parties or after they had murdered someone, or if their were rather estranged.

Although the girl playing the Lady couldn't stop blushing, we all agreed they still had a lot of sex, and from this moment on, the girl played her part wonderfully. She knew what she was now, and this gave her security. The young guy was even better afterwards: in the second part he played the King with the necessary single-mindedness, always a slightly cruel sneer on his lips. When I told him that I thought that he certainly had created a good role-image of himself, he smiled and said: Whenever he talked to his Lady in the play he thought that he would take her really rough and doggy style after this, like a real king, and the rest was easy.

Nobody would expect an asexual person to be intellectual. Jenny Fields in the wonderful "World according to Garp" is a nurse and can enjoy her life the way she wants. But when you are rather intellectual, like me testing students, with glasses and wearing a business suit, people automatically expect you to be as asexual as a bronze statue in the flower garden.

They certainly see that I have a body, they may even fantasize about what they would do if they had access to it, but I think they cannot imagine that I also make use of it and even feel lust. I am sure that - when they see me at the exam talking about those endless books - hardly anyone will believe that I love sucking cock as much as discussing English and American novels, or that I can completely lose myself while fucking.

"Not all is lost", said Phillip when he came home, and I wondered what he was speaking of. His job - I didn't hope so - or had he lost some more money on the stock market gambling with shares which were thought to be absolutely safe? No, he just talked about the Austrian football team which still has a chance of getting into the next round after playing 1:1 against Poland and after Germany lost to Croatia.

And so Phillip is not totally unhappy, because hope dies last (I would say: after the next game). Soon, soon my abilities will be asked for angain, when he is heartbroken and needs consolation, which of course I can give him in abundance. I don't know why he does not concentrate on them, but gets distracted by football instead - here in our little full-contact game there is certainly no-one who will lose.

"Give us your preferred time on MTM and ask all Alpinists across the Universe to join in with you at that time next Tuesday. We might stop the world from turning for a few moments. If it is successful we could make it a regular habit." Isn't that an ever so sweet reaction? Have you noticed how he says "we"? When you think of all people do and of the habits they have, this would certainly not be the worst one.

I didn't get to the computer yesterday because our final oral exams have already begun, and they will go on tomorrow, as well as all Monday and Tuesday (Yes, you guess right: no time for Tuesday morning pleasures). All in all there will be 72 exams about almost as many different books. Every exam takes 15 minutes, so it's an exam time of 18 hours within four days, during which I have to be fully concentrated and do my best to make my students appear to be at their best.

When you think of all the work and skill which is behind knowing all these books and doing all these tests, you might expect that this is at least well paid. But it isn't, it's just part of our job and not considered anything particularly unusual.

I'll be here again when I am coming up for air next time.

Every week on this day I am regularly asked if I celebrated MTM today - which is Masturbation Tuesday Morning - and people assure me that they celebrated with me, even thinking of me when they do and sending me a lot of mental energy through cyberspace in this way. I certainly feel it get to me - at least I thought I did this morning - and if not it's a nice thought anyway - and masturbation still one of the few pleasures which are free of charge and, at least here in Austria, without any commercial breaks.

When I think of it - maybe there would be a market here. If the commercialization of the world goes on, maybe after the introduction of the general oxygen tax for people who still insist on breathing, I could try to place a patent on certain masturbation techniques which are not registered yet and cash some little sum from all the wankers worldwide. And sell commercial breaks, of course, which make them stop rubbing for a time now and then to consume the ads.

Oh Brave New World ....

OK, our team lost their first game, but we would not be in the competition anyway if we weren't the host country. If you want to make sure that you are invited to a party, hold it in your own house.

While the game went on and the world seemed paralyzed, Helene and I went over to Elsie who was alone, too, and we had a pleasant Sunday evening Football Widow Jacuzzi session. It was very relaxing and funny and we had a good time, although it was not erotic and unusually cock-less. We missed Georgie Everhard a little, even if he can be a nuisance at times.

To my big surprise Elsie started to talk about Aldo again, and of how he is endowed and that she has never cum so hard since with him. Helene, who has never met him, listened very attentively and with interest, and I was not really surprised when she said she would love to meet him, too, if what he could do was so miraculous. I told them I would help them invite him, but I didn't feel much like being part of the romp - spoilsport me. So they begged me to phone at least and ask if he was interested.

I am sure it will have to be on an evening without football.

I have to admit something which is embarrassing and which I would not do in public or at school: although the Football European Championship takes place in our county (together with neighboring Switzerland), it does not interest me a lot. So there are no little Austrian flags flying from my car (because I don't even have a car), I have not bought any products with Austrian flags, not even underpants, and I will not go to any places which cater to football fans and have doubled their prices - maybe I will not even see the games on TV. I am quite interested in the results, though, but not in the actual kicking and sweating.

There is a football hype here, because some people hope they can earn a lot of money. Economists have calculated that 300 million Euros should be made in our country alone. So the hype is artificial and not really esteemed by everybody - I am not the only refusenik.

Not even Phillip can see a game in the stadium, because he does not write about sports anymore; there are so few tickets and they were given away one doesn't know to who. But he is very understanding and does not insist on watching football at home, he will go to town where you can watch it on the big screens together with other fans, and shout and drink beer with them.

Helene and I will stay at home and have a quiet evening. If there is a basic difference between men and women, I guess it best shows in such situations.

Outside the school, I met Esther. I have not mentioned her in my blog so far, she is just one of 150 students leaving school this year, and she was in my German class for the last four years. Rather too slim like many of our girls, quite tall, dark hair, always wearing jeans and loose fitting sweaters, she looked like all the rest. What distinguishes her is that she is a marvelous pianist, the most talented musician among our students for some years, according to the head of our music department.

What made her become special was the last essay the class had to write as a training for the finals. I set them the topic "Wendezeit", which might be "A Time for Changes" in English. She wrote that she felt there was a change happening with her which sometimes frightened her and she didn't know what to do. She had the impression there was something amiss with her sexual orientation - she had never doubted she was normal and had dates with boys and put up posters of male stars and sports people - she had never ever thought of being different from her family or everybody else she knew. But the dates had never come to anything, she had spent most of her time learning or practicing anyway, but now she had been to an event for young musical talents and she had met a girl she thought she had fallen in love with and she could not forget her even if she tried.

Sometimes being a teacher is like being a doctor or a priest: one is told things because people know that we will not tell it to others. I read texts like this now and then. The difficult thing is how to react, because it's usually a cry for help. In this case I offered to talk about it if she liked, and we had a good long conversation. Esther is quite a special girl, as I found out, very mature intellectually, but innocent and almost childlike emotionally, very sensitive like any true artist.

Among other things I told her that I was having my problems with my orientation, too, and that sometimes things can change and we can't do much (I was more open with her than I had actually intended). I advised her not to fight against what she felt but go with it and see what happens, and then decide again. I invited her to visit me at my house when all the exams were over and if she still liked to talk about it, and she said she might like to. In two weeks there will be our final oral exams and we will meet in our traditional roles, teacher and student, for the last time.

Helene and I had decided to put on the Suzy and Candy show tonight again for Phillip when he comes home, which is dressing like sluts and do some kinky roleplay. We were trying some old things which are still in one of my wardrobes - I am rather a collector when it comes to clothes, which has to do with my drama projects. I was wearing nothing but some old yellow pantyhose and standing before the mirror, when the telephone rang. I think I was still laughing when I picked it up.

Then I heard that Ruth has died. Some of my long-time readers may remember her. At one time we had some close contact - if you took the time, you could read the whole story of our relationship in my blog: how we met in town and she was the wife of Friedrich, an old professor who I had had sex with after a literary course, how I visited them now and then and she took me into her confidence and told me about her young lovers (she was 75 then). How she started to wear the same thongs like me and I told her that it was really true that women sucked cock and she learnt in at her age and loved it. After Friedrich's death she moved in with an old colleague of his, and they travelled a lot. The last time I saw her last autumn, she had been operated on and looked very old. And now she is dead.

How many memories are lost with a life, and how many things that are never possible again.

When I entered the headmaster's office this afternoon, I must admit I was worried what was waiting for me. All kinds of sentences had gone through my mind to defend myself, and I had answered a great number of questions which had never been asked.

That's why I almost had to laugh when I came in: Madam Chairman, of the School Board, was sitting in the headmaster's comfortable leather chair, while he had been offered the much less pleasant visitor's chair which was next to her. Rosie, the head of my language department, was sitting at a little extra table and had been told to keep the minutes.

The headmaster, who is so fond of getting people down whenever he can, did not even try to say something negative about me, the old coward. He nodded vigorously to everything positive the lady in charge said and added that she was totally right. In the end, Rosie had to read aloud everything which she had taken down about me and my work in the last decade, and she looked so displeased that I though she would soon explode and shrivel to nothing, which is her real stature, if you ask me.

Madam Chairman finally invited me to some coffee and cake, there is no alcohol in our cafeteria, and I found out that it had been her who had asked for this appraisal interview with me. She said she had noticed that the atmosphere in our school had become worse lately and she had also read some job references done by the headmaster which had made a very bad impression on her. It was time, she said, that this was changed to the better. She had never been so open to me before.

So my fears were in vain. As long as the good guys still win, the world is not lost.