I needed a break from school. I went out to Warrandyte to stay with Brett, and we went with Liza to visit one of the Coffin Cheaters motorcycle gang, a big bikey named Shark because he had so few teeth.
Brett and I went with a few of his friends to Mt Macedon and dropped magic mushrooms, and we collected more to take home. We went back to Shark’s place, made the coffee too strong and ended up with mild strychnine poisoning. Our fingernails turned blue and I felt horribly stiff and cold.
Brett went outside in a psilocybin haze, staggering along a dirt road crying out loud that he was full of worms. I was pretty fine compared to him, so I followed him, trying to calm him down. He was out of control, writhing in tears on the side of the road and I felt like I’d reached the end of what I could do. I turned away and left him there.
I walked about five metres and looked around to see the headlights of a police car pull up in front of him. Surprised, I headed bush. I jumped a fence and ran into the night. It was very dark, and I was running across a paddock thru thin gum trees. I reached another fence and climbed over it, heading away from the house and the car, towards I didn’t know what.
As my eyes adjusted it got easier and I walked for a long way before I saw odd animal shapes looming out of the darkness of the trees. They were camels, three of them standing there watching me. I walked toward them but they didn’t move away, so I diverted around them and continued on until I saw headlights in the distance, moving along a dirt road.
I decided the best course was to follow the car, which led me after another hour’s walk to a main road, where I began heading back to Warrandyte. When I got to the house I was staying, Brett was waiting, completely straightened out and wondering where I’d disappeared too.
In the morning we drove back to Shark’s empty farm and two cars, full of blokes I’d never met before, pulled in behind us. They accused Brett of stealing a crop of marijuana, and threatened to throw a cigarette butt in my petrol tank. I told the guy to go ahead, he’d be the one with 3rd degree burns.
He didn’t do it and they left, making more empty threats.
When I got back to Hawthorn, 764 Glenferrie was different. Matthew had gone, no more milky tea. Years later, Frank told me I was never the same after that week in Warrandyte.
Frank and David and I were watching TV one night and our pot dealer from up the hill walked in with a couple of thugs. They bailed me up against a wall and jabbed me in the chest with a pencil until it broke in half, demanding to know where Brett was.
Apparently Brett and his mate had barged into the dealer’s house with a shotgun and stolen the guy’s entire stash. Brett told me later that the shotgun wasn’t loaded, but I dodged that bullet for years after that.
10th of December 1981: The graduate screenings happened at the State Film Centre, my heart pumping adrenalin, brain popping endorphins. Tim blew a trumpet as the film started. When it was all done and the curtain fell, Bruce Kerr, who’d led the charge to the door when I read my original idea, told me, “You created the most striking images up there.”
I hoped my parents got it, but I’m not sure.
We all went back to Dave Collier and Lucy MacLaren’s place in Camberwell. An American female friend of Mark’s squealed when she realized that I’d played Walter Logus in “The Man With No Cold Drinks”. She was very gushy and told me I should be an actor - I earned a few points, but basically felt very embarrassed. I went somewhere and smoked heavily.
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