For a good time, call.

At one point in my life, I knew how to party.

I also used to live in a warehouse in Sydney with 18 other people, of different nationalities and backgrounds.  There was some sort of party going on in the front room 24/7.  But when we put our minds to really throwing a shindig, lives changed.  I have proof.

10-years later I was back, having drinks in a random backyard in Erskineville with the neighbors of some friends of my friends, and the subject came up: house parties vs. going out.  Everyone came down on the side of house parties.  And one girl in particular just had to tell us about the BEST party she’d ever been to, the one that taught her what partying could be, like some sort of perfect teen film -a porno themed party.  “Ten years ago it was.  On a night like this.  In a giant warehouse where all these crazy people lived.  With two dance halls, and a mirrored dance floor, and giant movie theater showing classic 70s porn, and everyone dressed really slutty…”

And there she was, a decade later, living proof that my good times had reverberated across time and space, sharing a pizza and having another laugh with the same best friends who’s penchant for outsized camaraderie had once again touched her life with a beer and a chuckle.

Fucking legends.





June 2004/David’s Place

I wake up to waves of moonlight crashing onto the sand.  I’ve fallen asleep in my hammock again.  It’s such an easy thing to do, kava or no.  Sleep is deep here, and an integral part of island life where morning comes early with the heat and the sun.  Dinner has come and gone, the usual revelers have packed it in, and all my world consists of at this moment is wind and sea, and deep, red crevasses in my back.  The hammock leaves its mark after a time, and it’s free to.  I breathe deep, and yawn.

My eyes drift across the palm-tree-framed postcard in front of me to the dark, silent giant staring at me from a folding chair a few paces away.  It must’ve been my stomach that woke me tonight, for Móle is as silent as he is large.

“Oh, hey.”  My throat cracks.  I haven’t spoken since noon.   “How long have you been here?”


In the weeks earlier, his proximity might have startled me. I can’t remember. Now he is Waldo, lost in the jungle backdrop of coconuts, sand, and jungle, wandering amongst the beachfront burres in the dark, keeping the travelers safe from the harsher realities of Fijian life.  He is Island Security.

“you fell asleep again.”

I don’t deny it. “Is anyone still up?

Móle closes his eyes and turns his face to the sea.  “too late.”

My next yawn confirms this.

“you need a bed.  go.”

So I go.

Don’t ask, won’t tell

BEEP. Chips, on sale, $2.50. She smiles.

“Hello, how’s your day been?”


… PANIC. Eyes wide, she sets the bag of chips down gently.

“Just kidding,” I lie.

HAHA The lie is an ice-cold bucket of relief. I dump it on her head.

“Serves you right for asking, though.”

“Ha! It sure does!”



I’ve gotten used to the way words mean different things to different populations around the world. I usually try to roll with it, and adapt. But on this, I’m putting my foot down.

Minnesota peeps: the sandy bit of dirt you lay on by the lake IS NOT A BEACH. And I don’t care what the dictionary says. I’m sorry.

A beach is more than sand and water. It is your most basic self dwelling in the moment of experiencing its physical connection to the vastness of the planet… not the other side of Nakomis over by the Delta terminal.

A Scene.

“part three:  eskimo.”



A cute, pudgy 11-YEAR-OLD ELIJAH sits at a desk, staring at math problems written on a cardboard cutout of a foot. Instead of doing the problems, he’s drawing finger prints on the toes.

ELIJAH:  I had been a fat kid in school. I’d say I was “THE” fat kid, but there were a couple of other poor creatures that were bigger than I was.


Elijah stands amidst some other children in a police line up. From left to right, starting with the skinniest kid, they get heavier and heavier. Elijah is the 3rd one in, out of 6.

ELIJAH:  The big one on the far right is Scott. And he doesn’t even count. That bastard was so fucking mean no one picked on him anyway.

Scott vanishes, and everyone reluctantly moves over a space to fill the void. They all react a little to their new status: the skinniest kid on the end looks really confused as his replacement walks in, strutting his stuff. The 2nd kid looks scared, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Elijah just shakes his head, looking at the camera in resignation. The new fattest kid looks absolutely horrified, almost suicidal, as the fourth kid pushes him into the new top spot, a mocking sneer on his face.


Scott, now 38, sits on a skinny jail house cot wearing prison orange. He’s now fit and muscular, covered in tattoos.

ELIJAH: I saw Scott on TV the other day. I gotta admit, he looks really good.

The mean bastard looks at the camera and growls.


Young Elijah stands in a long line of students waiting to be let outside for mid-day break.

ELIJAH:  As a fat kid, I was the perfect target for the misplaced angst of public school youth.

MARCUS, a tall, tough boy that looks like he hit puberty hard and just kept on going, cuts in front of him along with another tough looking goon.


MARCUS:  Hay? Hay?! Check it out, the cow’s begging for food again! Mooooooo!


Two teams of children stand on either side, looking past the camera. A few are holding basketballs. KEVIN, a team captain, is making a face trying to decide between something unseen. A BOY leans in and whispers in his ear, and Kevin shoves him away.

BOY:  Just pick one already.

Kevin is making the toughest decision of his life.

Kevin:  Um…

REVERSE to reveal Elijah and another boy, Lee, a crutch under his arm and his leg in a cast.

The GYM COACH walks up behind Kevin, and considers the choice with him.

GYM COACH:  Lee, you’re not playing with that. Get outta there, hit the bench.

Lee hobbles away gratefully, leaving Elijah standing alone. Kevin cocks his head to the side and sighs, still considering.



Snow is on the ground. Elijah is dressed in a huge coat with a fur rimmed hood. He walks to where the pretty young KELLY stands with a few other children.

ELIJAH:  Hi, Kelly.

KELLY:  You look like an Eskimo.

ELIJAH:  It’s my new coat. Do you like it?

CHILD #1:  Big fat Eskimo!

Someone pushes Elijah from behind, and he falls towards another kid, who pushes him back towards someone else.  The game is on!

CHILD #2: Big fat Eskimo!

Elijah is pushed towards Kelly, who pushes him back, having fun as she joins in.

KELLY:  Big fat Eskimo!


ELIJAH:  I had the biggest crush on her.


ELIJAH:  But being chunky in school, that kinda shit sticks with you a long time, long after adolescence spits you out.  Whatever thin layer of confidence you can grow sitting on top of a bad fish smell that never goes away.

Elijah stands in the background as Mara and her mother fuss over her prom dress. He wears his weight well at this age, but, of course, he still feels fat. He’s sweating, nervous, tugging at the front hem of his tuxedo and trying to suck in his gut.

ELIJAH:  Can you believe that poor kid is worried about his weight right now? That boy’s not fat, he’s just a virgin!



for Vicious

I dream I exist as a ribbon of energy.  The part that is me, here, now, is just the part of my ribbon that crosses through these four dimensions we find ourselves in.  I exist elsewhere.  But here, now, my body is its evidence, my mind its vehicle of observation.  We are more than what we appear to be.  There are parts of us we can’t see.

My ribbon is intertwined with my friend, and together, at some point in this four dimensional space, we meet, and are entangled together.  And we are more than we appear to be.  There are ribbons of us we can’t see, that which we truly are, always together.  Beyond these dimensions.  Essentially, forever.




A body at rest

Reminded that it once moved

Dreams of nothing else

%d bloggers like this: