I guess when the trips to Sydney start to mount, the polish wears off. There are no longer fresh experiences, just the re-kindling of old memories. And if you know me these days, I'm all about the memories (although I wish I wasn't as much a condescending old fart), but I'm split in two ways.
The young rebel in me wants to break free of the self imposed excile from Clubland, take drugs, cut loose, talk shit to strangers, throw caution to the wind. I try to get that kind of shock and awe from Newcastle, but the population just isn't as diverse. And the good people of this town don't want to hear me rubbish them, but it's just the way it is.
The old cynical reformist wants to remind me, that all those friends I once had, are no longer friends. For you are steadfast and strong willed, and you have been through some intense shit with friends lost over the last 3 years, and the reason for this was that you would not back down from what you truly believe. And so he asks, do you really want to put yourself through that shit again?
The answer, as it always seems, lies within the music.
You see, i've been taking stock lately. I'm back on the meds, seeking therapy, been spending that much needed time with my own thoughts. And as that goes, the one thing that remains strong, my thoughts are guided by my gut feelings, and my gut is driven by the music. Corny I know, but I can't escape from that one and only truth. If the music sucks, I close up, drink more, feel sorry for myself and I just want to escape. But if the music is good, I open up, confess my soul, others do the same, I have faith in people, and the world spins on the right axis again.
Here's hoping that the right music and the right beats make me feel at home, come next Saturday.