Me and the old man causing trouble at Bear Island in Sydney.
After a couple of lovely days with Wen, I headed back to Melbourne last Thursday, en route to a school reunion on Saturday night, pulled into town around 12:30. I hadn't had any luck for the last week or so getting in touch with Steve, as through some as-yet not understood coincidence, he changes his mobile number roughly as often as he gets blotto. So I decided to send him one last text message, as in, I went to his house and left a note on his kitchen table. (Chris, I promise that this is the last time I trundle out that joke). Then I hooked up with Choco, whoe had a BAC high enough to make his breath ignite near an open flame. Using the modern magic of a corporate CabCharge card, we found ourself at the Laundry on Smith St not long afterwards ($3 spirits, way-hay). 'Tis then that I realized I was back in Melbourne. We were playing pool with a pair of likely lads of the indigenous persuasion, when one of them dumped (what turned out to be) 3 grams of sweet Mary Jane on the bar and started tearing it apart coarsely. Choco called me over and asked if I would roll them some blunts. I agreed, and set about it. Partway through, the barmaid came over, and I panicked, trying to be all cool like I was just rolling a durrie. She peered over the stacked glasses, saw what I was doing, and said, "You want some scissors?". Right on. They smoked their way through the whole lot, the smoke was so pungent and thick in the room one could barely see. I was trying do dodge any passive inhalation, moreso than usual, conscious of the fact I have a drug test in NY in a few weeks.
The text message paid off, and Steve was able to wrangle things to head down to the re-union with me. On the way down, I got an email from my Mum on my mobile, telling me that Steve probably didn't know that his parents had moved house. It would have been awesome to drop Steve off at his old place, to have the door answered by complete strangers who would recoil at his wild appearance. The re-union itself was good, most people haven't really changed all that much in 10 years, just become bigger versions of what they already were. From our year, one has died from cancer (at 19), one has died from a heroin overdose, and one is physically and mentally retarded after a car accident. The re-union itself wrapped up fairly early, so myself and three others (two of whom I'm quite familiar with) went back to a hotel room and kept the dream alive. But, like all dreams, we woke up the next morning feeling hollow with broken glass all over the place.
Since then, I had a good day on the farm with Steve, helping one of the neighbours whose house burned down put up the frame of their new two-story kit house. This involved nail-guns and treacherous heights, so overall an awesome day.
Thanks to the US/Au free trade agreement, there is a rad new visa which will allow me to work indefinitely in the US, called the E-3 visa. So, I've been getting the stuff for my visa application together (the application itself will be handled by a company which specialises in corporate immigration, fancy that!). It's all a bit unreal and surreal, but totally real.
