Silks and linens of yesterday’s gowns

4 friends
1 full tank of petrol
3.5 hours
234 kilometres
53 songs
2 rabbits
2 possums
3 wombats
8 kangaroos
15 near misses
-1 cat

2 nights
3 days
1 mountain
28 bands
11 chairlift rides
8 joints
4 bottles of wine
too many G+Ts
1 new nickname
1 slightly embarrassing fan moment
3 packets of Doritos
2 excruciating games of Bingo
99 really bad jokes
1 game of Whot! – the bastard son of Uno
6 Moroccan mini burgers
5 new T-shirts
11 curious cat paintings
1 screening of Walkabout
1.25 hours of spine-tingling Warren Ellis violin
1 hour of exhilarating Spiritualized auditory assault
1.75 hours of Nick Cave’s post-junkie rock-chic mad-cunt intensity
2 encores
1 full moon

4 new favourite bands
5 new CDs bought online
7 episodes of Veronica Mars
1 almost-forgotten car insurance payment due
1 almost blog entry

Every time I climb a mountain, I leave a piece of my heart there. Early Saturday morning, I threw a long silver heartstring off the summit and into the wind and watched it float over the snowgums and the rocks, slipping between the peaks and down into the gullies, nestling between the foxgloves and the wild-violet kisses.

I?ll rejoin the black denim brigade tomorrow, after I brush the dust off my boots and untangle the half-unravelled thought-threads. For now, though, I’m wrapping myself up in clean sheets and going to sleep to the song of the high country still ringing in my ears.