Went down to Tlell, midway down the island, for a party. Nice to roadtrip with Meredith, Chris the Mapper, Tammy and Amy (both of whom I just met). Meredith had her antique, white diesel Mercedes wagon on the road (it’s running thanks to creative fixes under the hood like a pair of vice-grips wired shut, clamping some hose in place). The back was taken up with a massive foamy and bedding. That’s Meredith’s favourite part of bringing it to parties; a great place to crash afterwards. She’s wearing makeup and a Leatherman multi-tool in a pouch hanging jauntily off her belt. It’s Darryl’s birthday party. He was DJ’ing at the pig roast a few weekends before. We pull up to see a giant screen setup in the woods, a projector throwing psychedelic patterns onto it, through which dance the shadows of several children and one adult, who looks like she might actually be a dancer. Big outdoor speakers pump what sounds like amped up klezmer music. Darryl, half-Japanese, is an artist, musician, and woodworker when he’s not DJ’ing. His wife, a mid-wife, is out delivering a baby. Toby, also half-Japanese but unrelated, is giving himself a haircut, in preparation for a job he’s showing up for the next morning on Moresby Island. He’s bopping his head to the beat of the music and not using a mirror. He let’s me have a go at it for a while. Most of the party are out back down on the beach, around a beach fire made of stacked logs, some as long as park benches and some as wide around as trash cans. A guy dressed like an admiral is throwing soap bubbles – human-sized hamster balls – wobbling out toward the fire. They shimmer and warp and inevitably burst in a silent, wet implosion. The northern lights cut a wide swath of green across the sky around 2am. Toby sits down by the fire, looking clean-cut, having just taken a shower after his haircut. He did a really good job but must have tied up the only bathroom in the place, finishing his cut and shower.
