(diaryland) February 27, 2006 - 10:56 p.m.

I went to my piano teacher's house. She was running late so I had to sit on the big couch in the living room, swinging my legs and reading some book about Chopin's funeral while I was waiting.

After a while, the front door slammed and the back of a blazer blazed past on a mission. A bi-fold door shut behind it.

It was the mysterious Piano Teacher's Son again.

I heard many unidentifiable thumps and then a door slammed far away. I thought that was the end of it. Our paths had crossed again, briefly.

Finally some guy stopped playing A and D in the lesson room and he got ushered out. My piano teacher said, "It's your turn! Come on in!" By this time I was right near the end of the chapter in this funeral book and I wanted to just squeeze in the last bit before Chapter Two kicked in. I was like, "Just a sec!"

So she went back inside the lesson room and I zoomed around the corner into the hallway all by myself.

There was the Piano Teacher's Son just standing there silently, clothed only in jocks. I practically bumped into him. Man, I did look down to where his penis was located because I couldn't help it. It was just there.

I said, "Excuse me," like a really embarrassed person and then ran into the lesson room.

It was kind of surprising because then he followed me into the room brazenly, all standing there in his jocks. It was so uncool. Whose son stands in a room of a student in their jocks? My attention was then drawn to his blotchy forehead.

He said, "Mum, can you see the writing on my forehead?" It turns out that he had been to the swimming carnival all day and had written a slogan to do with his colour team in zinc cream on his forehead and a sunburn had made all the rest of it red. The slogan was very clear. It said, "White Power".

Boy, he's freaky. However, I do feel sorry for him because tomorrow he's going to have to walk around in public with "White Power" written on his forehead. Dingus.