How I Ended up in a Big Metal Box, In the Middle of the City, Naked

Because I was so excited about my music homework, I woke up at 7:30. I started the day off right with a handful of cold spaghetti, rocked up to the library in a light drizzle, and bought a small cap with two sugars and a chocolate croissant on the way to class

My teacher didn’t want the 1,000 or so words of powerpoint notes I had carefully formulated. She spent the remainder of the tutorial time trying to figure out what the hell was going on that disabled my project from functioning. In the end the time ran out and I was left to my own devices. I waded through technical difficulties for several more hours, until everyone else in the lab had left, stopping only when I realized I had forgotten to write a paper for my internship-supplement. I wrote that 1,000 words in about half an hour and quickly forgot about it again.

I was aggressively bored as I battled my computer’s low battery in the drizzle and the darkening day. Adhit said something about something that didn’t equal going out, but sent me a link to a laser dance party, and the description sounded good so I immediately committed to going.

I rode building thunder-clouds across campus listening to “Is It Medicine?” by The Knife, and ate the rest of my carton of passion-fruit yogurt on the train. Once I arrived at the Redfern station I loitered outside. An official old gentleman (you have to go through a lot of certification to become an official old gentleman) shot me glances a couple of times and I thought: “Where will I loiter if I am kicked out?” He came outside and said “Sgt. Peppers!” (I was wearing my marching band jacket) then walked ten paces and lit up a cigarette.

Adhit picked me up and we swiftly walked through some warmly-lit campus, which had Cole Wilson’s heart (red yarn) stretched across the light poles. DJ Tom Loud wizarded video clips into each track to great effect and the crowd was made up of hip students who were not afraid to really get down, gospel style. I almost forget that there are places where I do fit in, what with all the top-forty and Macker’s that surrounds village-living.

After exiting the dance-tent at a young hour, we encountered a group of people whom we had met earlier and said: “oh yeah!” They were standing around a shipping container in the middle of campus, with cameras and clipboards. They had previously invited us to come inside said shipping container to be part of their art project (take off our clothes and get painted in UV paint under a black light). “Are you keen?” The director inquired. When I was trying to get people to act in my art project (take off their clothes and get painted white in sand and snow), I always figured if someone propositioned me to do such a thing I would be keen. I was keen.

On the night before the biggest shoot of Coconut, when something like sixteen people had flaked out on me in two days, I was at a bar asking relative strangers if they would be down to come along on a six hour drive to White Sands the next day. One Australian said he would be completely willing, that this was what travel was about. I told him that if I was ever in Australia I would pay back the favor. I had no idea I would be in Australia around a year later. So that’s how I ended up in a big metal box in the middle of the city, with a group of strangers, naked.

When word spread that people were coming to arrest us for indecent exposure we called it a wrap, and I realized I had missed the last train by two minutes.  I had also left my bag, complete with wallet and keys, in Adhit’s car (Adhit left). I started inquiring about night busses in the area when the person with the best hair in the world offered me a ride home.

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