I, hospo drone

Working full time. It feels like being sucked down a drainpipe, and as I look up I can see my part-time-working and unemployed friends still socialising, jamming, laughing and chatting away just like I used to, but they're getting more distant by the second as I spiral down in to drone land.

On the chance occasion that I manage to get out of my suburb and see my friends, I always seem to wind up talking about work. Sure, work is interesting, but not nearly as interesting as I find a million other things in this world - yet I can never seem to remember what those things are. I keep on forgetting that I even do stuff other than work, like play music or paint or write or talk to people. The person that was performing in a musical just over a month a go seems like a distant creature.
I am becoming boring.

There is one good thing: a night out is about ten times more fun when you only have one a fortnight.


The city is changing. Black Note, Espressoholic, Webb Street, Valve, The Cuba Street Carnival; these things are all gone, or not what they used to be. I feel somewhat indignant that no one thought to consult with me about taking away my haunts of the last couple of years. It's like someone is stealing my home. I feel cheated and I feel old. I even find myself grumbling about the latest facebook layout change.

Though, of course, things are changing constantly, every day, and it doesn't pay to attach yourself to anything; I know this. But without attachment how can you love? How can you even feel anything if you're not in some way dedicated to your life, or someone else, or some thing?

But about the city: I think this means it's time to leave. These things are really not so important as I make them out to be, it's just that they've swelled to occupy most of my current limited universe. My geographic world seems to define the limits of my mental world. I need more space.

Are you ever ashamed when you look back over a page of writing and all you can see are the short black dashes of the capital 'I's? I must make this interesting, talk about things other than myself - politics, the economy, human rights abuses, you. But really, self-reflection seems to lead to the most bloggable material; the prettiest sentences and most articulate musings. Maybe when I've analysed and exposed my soul sufficiently - if that should ever happen - I'll get round to writing something relevant to the rest of the world.