55. A Party Out The Back Of Mullum
Do you remember? A party out the back of Mullum, a lake, an Australian night. I was high and you were wild or was it the other way round. I’d dumped my willowy friend with the ankles she was ashamed of soon after arriving in Sydney and jumped in with a bunch of Israelis who had a camper van going north. She was furious, she said she’d offered me her friendship on a silver platter, a phrase I found funny not sobering. It didn’t make me sorry. The Israelis called me hefty or some such word which is relevant to mention not because I was but because I soon wouldn’t be, and I hadn’t noticed that…
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