The last of everything. The last chat with an old mate who has talked me through some serious shit. My last schnitzel with roesti from Maggie's restaurant. My last Sydney gig. My last wandering around this crazy island of reality known as Kings Cross.
I've been in Sydney for most of the last nine years, I've probably seen one percent of this vast metropolis. Kings Cross and the harbour, the rest of the city can sink into the Pacific for all I care. I'll miss the Cross, the people, the energy, the history, nearly every Australian worth speaking of has had a Kings Cross address at some stage.
That I'm leaving feels like a reality today, this feeling of doing everything for the last time, I have to confess I'm a little sad. I'm going because I want to, because there is a new and different life beckoning elsewhere, I'm joyous, allowing myself a small wallow in what will soon be the past.
The last time doesn't make anything more valuable, weighty, it's all in my perception. The schnitzel I eat tonight won't be any tastier than usual, it will just seem tastier, seasoned with melancholy. It's a cliche, live every day as if it's your last, the cliche has some merit. Perhaps living that day as if it's your first is a better idea? Everything and everyone fresh and new, free of expectation? Maybe a grown up like me can find a balance between the two, let each day die, let each day reincarnate with me in it?
Smile and enjoy these last two days. I've contributed my verse to the ongoing play that is Kings Cross, Kings Cross has made a man out of me. Tomorrow night I'll sleep here for the last time, awake to my old friend the Hume Highway, reincarnate in St. Kilda, the rest of Melbourne can sink into the Southern Ocean as far as I'm concerned. Some things stay the same.