Friday, October 31, 2008


I'm starting on the sauce a bit earlier than usual next Wednesday, to kick in the Obama presidency in real-time. So like, 8am screwdrivers. I've been really bummed out that I haven't been in the States these past two years of campaigning–I'm one of the most politically-obsessed people I know–but it's been interesting to have this faraway perspective.

My friends in NYC are describing this feeling of surge and renewal around them, despite the economy collapsing, due mostly to Obama. As I've scoured the NYTimes every day, I've been thinking a lot about the divisive nature of people—of only feeling strong by feeling a part of something that others are not a part of. It's a basic instinct and has been used blatantly and successfully throughout our collective political history.

But being behind the candidate who kicks the dust off the high road, and "incidentally" into his opponents' faces, I can't help but feel embarrassed for having bought into my own aggression. It makes me feel like getting called up as being mean when really I'm just at a loss of something better to say.

I haven't written a post on here in 6 months because I'm feeling this "otherness" so overwhelmingly that I've considered scrapping this blog and renaming it The Reluctant Australian. It's like I'm telling myself, "I'm here, not there, get over it." It's just that these little Aussie things aren't so funny any more. Or maybe they are still, but my lone laughter is sounding a bit tragic.

Don't get me wrong: Safetytown is alive and well. I'm still noticing hilarious signs, or big useless clusters of them, or a row of bike racks mowed down by a Friday night motorist: (why did they put safety tape around it? "Don't hit the bike racks again."?)

But my point is I can be and am critical about anything and everything, so the scope of what I write may not be defined by my lack of connection to Safetytown anymore. It'll make it easier to write, at the very least.

Whatever, I'm not even drunk. It's Friday night and I'm blogging. If I were saying all this aloud, next to you at the bar, you'd rightly call me an emo and tell me to fuck off.

So I'll follow your advice and sign off now.

Cheers mate!