Tuto Posto!

I just returned from the supermarket having a sudden overwhelming desire to drink orange juice. Cold orange juice, which I didn't own at the time of craving and wouldn't drink if it was in our fridge anyway. Yet another object that needs cleaning before my sis returns.

Anyway the bottle cap had a 'liddle fact' in it, specifically no 183. Ant's dont sleep.

I presume they have checked their facts, and this blows my fucken mind and made me overwhelmingly tired.

I was tired all weekend. It was a self inflicted tiredness, insisting that I needed to fulfil my facebook RSVP's and maintain my integrity as a reliably reliable person rather than sleep and recuperate.

It had been a long week, heroin addiction, lung cancer diagnosis, dropping out of school, all real problems, all not mine but of loved ones and loved ones loved ones. The sort of week that makes you want to insist on having fun, even if you don't enjoy it.

So I did, and I enjoyed it. As per usual I drag my feet to gigs and find myself envigorated the moment the act starts playing. I exploited a loop-hole in my system and skipped out on a gig I had intended to go to, but hadn't actually said I would and went to see Alexie play his bass to finish off my weekend.

It was funny because recently I realised I'd never actually been out in my own suburb or those ajoining it, even though I've lived here for 2 years. Anyway the Hawthorn Hotel let's say is not the venue to make one feel they have wasted 2 years.

I got there and the band was awful so I quickly left. I ran into Alexie on the corner who concurred that the band playing was awful. I asked him when his started and he said in 20 minutes.

Approximately 20 minutes later I sat down to enjoy some acoustic pop from Alexie's band. It featured acoustic guitar, bass guitar, xylophone and refreshingly these days, no synth.

The Hawthorn* Hotel has this horrible disco-esque lighting on the stage that flashes around periodically blinding you in alternating primary colours. It created this strange effect though which cast the singers face in complete shadow. So all the vocals seemed to emerge out of this strange negative space. And let's face it accoustic pop is relaxing.

And I had a catharsis**, not a vision as such, but a feeling. A revelation.

I realised that right then and there I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

And even though I was tired and shit, and needed sleep and whatnot, it was an incredibly relaxing sensation. Arguably better than sleep. I imagine that this sense of being in the right place is what ants feel when they are never sleeping.

I can't describe it, I imagine its like being shipwrecked and swimming all night and then finally washing up on the shore of some island populated by a nubile and primitive people. Except I imagine most people on finding terra firma would immediately proceed to sleep. Also I have no actual experience of being shipwrecked, so it really isn't my place to comment on how similar that felt to taking in an accoustic pop set at the Hawthorn Hotel.

The good people of Naples*** have a veriation on the classic 'sto bene' (I'm well) response to 'come sta' (how are you?) which is 'tuto posto' that is 'everything in its place' and there briefly for a while, I was in my place.

*for some reason I really want to spell Hawthorn 'Hawthorne'

**I hope this means what I assume it does.

***but seriously, keep one hand on your wallet when they are around.