The Hanging Out Room

There was a room where Andrew and I would hang out. It was in someone else’s flat, but they didn’t seem to mind too much. I only liked hanging out there when the other guy and his girlfriend weren’t there. One day we went to a different house because it was closer, but they didn’t want us to hang out there. Andrew was boring the guy with talk about drumming. He had left his Del Pierro tshirt there and I had to go get it. My car was a scooter and people laughed at me because I parked it on the road. Even Criz had a car.

I was walking around the edge of a small lake in the snow. I came to a little hut. There was a sign that said that I had to pay to get bicycle puncture insurance. Since I didn’t have a bike, I thought it was best to leave. It got a lot warmer and the snow was getting soft. Then everything was brown: the trees, sky and snow. Emma showed me how to get out by crossing over a shallow sea. I kept swishing my fingers in the air and saying how warm it is. We got to a beach. Everything was still brown, and there was a big wall with several power points. Emma said she knew the way to Finland, but then I realised that it was a dream so I woke up. I was lying on a beanbag in the hanging out room.

The guy came home carrying lots of bags. He didn’t seem to think it was weird that I was there. I asked if he needed a hand, and he got me to carry some long rolls of carpet. The room was being renovated by my dad. Dad asked me to help him check if something was level, and I didn’t know how but pretended I did. Now there was a weird popup ad in one corner of the room, with The Office-style actors advertising poker or something. On the other side was a cricket umpire. We talked about cricket and ripped off Josh Kronfeld.

Everything was becoming more and more digital until at last everything was constantly moving text and a 3D drawing of the Sydney opera house panning up and down. I showed Ruby; she was uninterested. I showed Björk; she pretended to care but it was obvious that she did not.