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459 Fitzgerald Street
North Perth, WA, 6006
Australia

A Tall Tree, a Silent Circle and Some Meth

The Amber Fresh Chronicles

A Tall Tree, a Silent Circle and Some Meth

Andrew Ryan

..

““Amber is doing album mixing at the moment and getting ready for a book launch, so she’s taking a week off… But we have a special piece of writing from her, originally published in The Lifted Brow, reprinted here to tide you over til next week.”“

The birds out the front of my house are trying really hard to have a baby. I keep looking for little chicks, but all I find are tiny white egg shells, broken in half and licked dry.

One night I was riding home on my bike, with 8 hole All-stars on. I got stopped on the street by a man who wants to find true love, or any love, but it’s hard for him, because he has wounds all over his skin from special crystals that you heat up, and he has no dry place to take his love to when he finds her. I am looking for true love and it’s hard for me too, but I didn’t take him home even though I have a dry place.

At the moment, I’m most proud of the worms in my backyard. I’m prouder of them than myself. All day long they eat and make good things and don’t do no harm to no one. I took the DCP reports from all the kids on camp, saying how they were messed with as little kids, and I shredded it all up and I fed it to the worms in their little house I made. It’s not a dry house, but it’s how they like it, and now they’re going to eat up all that nasty stuff and turn it into something good.

When my friends came over we all closed our eyes. I was waiting for god and my other friend was waiting for nothingness and my other friends were waiting for the universe and we all sat there real quiet. Well god did come and told me about Banksia Hill which sounds like a nice place, but really it’s not like a nest or a worm farm or a hotel if you’re on tour with your band. It’s this place right out in the suburbs and there’s all the kids in there whose reports are getting eaten in my back yard. See, that’s how the world works, in circles. Some of them are good circles, and some of them are a broken shell with all the yolk licked out and no life left inside. And at Banksia Hill sometimes there’s not enough staff, so it’s lockdown and all the kids get locked in their rooms with a plasma tv, but no mum or dad there with big wings to cover them over.

My city is a circle too. You can look at it on the map, but you have to draw the line round into the sea with your mind because they don’t draw that bit in for you. In the sea bit there’s some sharks circling round, gathering up their food, and on the land bit there’s people and birds and ants circling round, sometimes to gather up food, and sometimes to form a circle around something that died and they’re sad about it. Those are all good circles, even though they might not seem like it at the time.

Today I’m going to make a good circle too. It’s going to be me, the tree in my backyard, my arms, its arms, my mobile phone and the sound of my friend’s voice. I’m going to use this circle to cut into another circle that’s made out of crystals, but not the nice ones. It’s a special circle that I’m making today in my city, Perth, and you can make one too, in your city, to put the yolk a little bit back in.