A Walk on the wild side of home

“ .. .. And I said, hey babe take a walk on the wild side …” I can’t get that tune out of my head. Its not that I really like Lou Reid, or think that song is particularly great. You know how it is, you hear something on the radio and it sort of lodges in your brain and then proceeds to torment you for hours sometimes days, popping into your mind when you least expect it. Well, I guess it’s not too bad really, it could have been a silly jingle from a kids show or something. At least this is a pretty cool riff. 

‘When are you coming home darling’, its my mum on the voice mail. I can’t remember when I was home last, must have been before the operation. Funny really, Michael leaves home and returns as Michelle. How can I go home now.

“… Shaved her legs and he was a she..” damn song. What is home anyway? Isn’t it a place where you feel safe, cared for, comfortable, relaxed. I never felt any of those while I lived with my mum in small town wagga, redknecks and bogans . That was then, that was Micahel.  Imagine the reaction now, redknecks would have a field day. ‘A small town in wagga’, funny that, even though I lived there 21 years, I still didn’t  call it home.

‘….A hustle here and a hustle there…’ turn it of Lou you are beginning to get on my nerves. The hustles were the hardest bit, making a living on the streets, the parties and the coke, and then home to crash in front of the Telly with a takeaway box and cigarette before bed. Ah, I said home, a trashy rundown apartment at the back end of nowhere. Is this home, do I feel safe? Do I feel relaxed? Do I feel cared for?

‘……in the backroom she was everybody’s darlin…’, Somebody change the record please. Ok, time to call mum. Hi mum, its me, yes I’m fine and how are you and dad, that’s good, no I don’t know when I can get to wagga, please mum, no mum, stop it mum,  ok bye mum. Love you to mum.

I guess I feel safe here, nobody knows me, well I say nobody knows me, what I mean is that nobody ‘really’ knows me. The anonymity of a place like Sydney. No one really cares if you’r a tranny or a faggot, a gay or a queer. I can be who I want, when I want and how I want. Yes I do feel at home here… ‘and the coloured girls go do do do do do…’

Ok Mr Reid you win. I am going to have to play that song now, maybe that will stop the constant intrusions into my thoughts when I am least expecting them. Or then again.. perhaps not Lou.  If I do that then you win, and your not even real, I am.  I can do this. Think about something else, anything else.  No not that not Wagga, its not home. Its just bricks and mortar were I lived once, its not home. Home is where the heart is. 

“Little Joe never once gave it away, Everybody had to pay and pay ..”  No, No, No, That was little Joe, wasn’t me.  It was not I.  I am me I am Michelle. I am Michael, Not Joe, I am home, I am safe. Where’s my mum. I don’t need here I’m strong. I can do this, stay focussed.  ‘…New York City's the place where they say…’ Sydney I live in Sydney born in Wagga not New York, and this is my home now. I’m home. I’m safe. Safe. Home. Safe.  I can do this. Must stop now.  Stop. Stop. Must Stop. Control,  Breathe slow, Breathe slow. I am strong. 

Better.

Put on the radio, drown out those thoughts, ‘its 2 o’clock and this is ABC National, …‘Jackie is just speeding away…’ stop.  ‘Police arrested three people in an armed …”  ‘…Then I guess she had to crash…’ Noise, to much noise, can’t think. Must stay in control, breathe “..rain over high ground clearing in the afternoon, ‘ …Take a walk on the wild side……’ I am home. I am strong. I am safe,.  You should've seen em go go go .. Hey shuga Take a walk on the wild side’ . No, No, where’s my mum.  Mum. Mum I want to come home..






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