city of blandness
When I first found sydney, it wasn't bland at all....it was dangerous and dirty and full of drugs and music and rebellion. I was running away....from everything....from the mountains, my sadness, my past, all the parts of my childhood that made me so depressed.
Newtown: the place I had romanticised since I was twelve. I didn't tell anyone where I was, I just stayed at 598 king st one night and decided never to go home. Sydney was the place where I could start again, it was a place that never seemed to sleep, it was where I met you. We had that huge crazy crew of people and it was the cosiest family.
It was time to rebel. I LIKED the smell of garbage and pollution as I walked out of my front door. It was punk. I liked the sound of drunken carry-on and hoodlums in the street. Those were our people. We would all sit in a big pile out the front of 598 with no shoes and longnecks in our hands and life was just a bowl o' cherries.
But now....without you...without all of us...without the chaos and the carnage and the five-day weekends and the underworld and the faithless...the city isn't so romantic and thrilling. It's just crowded.
I once felt that the city had captured me, now I just feel imprisoned.
The thing that makes me happiest lately is getting away from the traffic, the dirty streets and the throngs of people and just being in nature...I try to do it at least once a week. Just go down the coast a bit and go for a huge bushwalk or find secluded beaches.
I don't want to change cities yet, I just don't want to be living right in the middle of it anymore.
As soon as I get behind the wheel again I wanna move away to somewhere I can run around until I drop from exaustion. I don't mind doing a long drive to the city to do stuff. I want to get a place right near some national park, I want to live around the trees and bushland, I want space to dance, I want fresh air to breathe, I want to be able to go for a run down the fire trails...
Ya know what I mean?
Soon.