Tuesday, November 15, 2005

058: CITY
I'm very attached to the city in which I live. I mean the actual city centre. It still feels like home to me, as it was as a young kid given 50 bucks to get out of his parents hair.

I'm not sure what it is, but the air tastes different in the city. The energy flows differently. Even when it is empty, it's pulsating lights and dirty streets serve as a reminder of the hundreds of people who occupied that space only a few hours before.

Naturally attracted to blinking lights, and 'shiny things', the cityscape has a soothing effect on me. The lights all blink in unison, singing some sort of luminescent song that only I can hear with my ear close to the ground.

Everything is alive in some way, mechanical or not. I sit on the floor at federation square, feeling the trains in the subway beneath me, rushing off to their next train station. Tonnes of steel and plastic racing off from the platform, like some sort of horrible electronic beast. Enslaved by it's human ,masters, it lives only to serve, ferrying passengers to and fro.

My favourite thing about my city would have to be the neon lights. They come alive at night, like owls remaining dormant throughout the day, unnoticed by the hoardes of people. When the sun sets, they burn so brightly, forcing you to acknowledge whatever it is they are advertising. They're like gigantic nightlight, acting like a sedative for my overactive mind.

The people in the city remain separated, yet united. As if merely existing in the city makes them a part of something bigger. Tiny little pieces of bacteria inhabiting a larger, concrete life form.

Most importantly, the thing that makes the city so significant for me, it that it bears witness. Like some sort of guardian, or mother, it's been there all my life. Witnessing all my heartache, my victories. Watching each dilemma unfold. Watching my life twist and turn and morph into the awkward man-child I see in the mirror each morning.

The city has seen me drunk, it's seen me start fights, it's seen me make out in public places, it's seen me naked. It's seen me eat, and drink, and watch movies and forge new friendships. All under the watchful eye of steel and glass.

Every street corner, every building and store drenched in the memories of things past. People who have come and gone. Lost loves and new ones, and adventures involving the police that seemed like they'd never end.

Try as I might - I can never bring myself to say goodbye to the city, at least not in my heart. I know I'm never truly going to be able to. It's spirit walks with me wherever I go.
the end.

6 Comments:

Blogger Mel said...

Our city rocks, rolls and roars! No city quite like it - and it's why we love her so... thanks mate.

6:43 PM  
Blogger mocushile said...

I have always love the city
weither its here or back home

I think the city has a diff taste than suburbs ... as it the centre where u see all kind of people

IM LOVIN IT ....

9:09 PM  
Blogger Slim said...

Mel - I rtead this blog over and it sort of sounded like one of Drusailla's crazy rants.

"I can see the city singing!!"

5:51 PM  
Blogger Mel said...

Dude, I wasn't going to say anything because we all have a bit of 'Dru' in us ... 'er, that is to say (I hope Chris reads this and chuckles) we all have a bit of the loonie in us encouraging us to lament about the 'old man, I didn't like him, he got stuck in my teeth' and 'Your face is a poem, I can read it' and my personal favourtite - 'I am naming the stars. I can see them. But I've named them all the same name, and there's terrible confusion.'

6:22 PM  
Blogger Slim said...

Mel, you're the man.

I'm gonna start doing my crazy Drusilla dance that I do every morning when I get dressed.

My favourite would have to be from 'Reunion' when she tells Darla
"You're all new again!"

8:00 PM  
Blogger izchan said...

You are talking about THE Melbourne city rite?

The only city that I vowed to go back when I am over 50.

That is where I am going to grow old and die.

they can scatter my ashes at Yarra River.

3:19 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home