A love letter to Melbourne from a backwater shithole
For any Australians reading, you would know specifically how our ‘media’ describes the lawless flaming barrelled filled streets of Melbourne, I live in a regional, insular and ocka part of this country. I am surrounded by the Murdoch simulacrum, everyone here is in the Murdoch simulacrum, and you hear these opinions everywhere, your friends, the men at the pub are cock-sure and will quite smugly assure you of the serious regret you will have, of the magnitude of a mistake you are making. It’s all bullshit, but it weighs on your mind. Going there and being welcomed so wholeheartedly, having friendly conversation pour out of every side street and packed bar, even the junkies are polite and often provide a nice bit of 10 cent wisdom through drags of a bent cigarette, it may just be ‘my experience’ and the locals probably could probably tell me otherwise, but I digress. To come home, and have the first soul I speak to on the train back to my ‘safe space’, be a man who was gloating to me that he’d just been paroled for knocking someone out and putting them in the boot of their car told me everything I need to know. I live in a culture-less, small minded, shithole. And I have all my life. If you live in a major city, I envy you. There is no mono-culture, you will always have someone who you will be able to relate to, and you will never be laughed at for being different.
Thank you for listening to my rant. If I had nowhere else to write this it would be written on my wall.