Fugazi order

As a teenager, I tried to avoid vanquishing to the alcoholic tide of Australia. One night, I even opted to be "designated driver"; I'm yet to repeat the experience. The final straw of my tea-totalling was attending a cousin's graduation; he studied medicine. During the boring ceremony order my awfully sober time was compounded by jokes from the family, laughing about how I wasn't taking advantage of the piss-up. What can you say in such a colony? The inmates are your family. Leaving aside the marvel of Australia and her nonstop phenomenas, for just one moment, I always admired this band; Fugazi. I admired them for the reputation of Ian Mackaye and the inadvertent influence of his songs from the days of Minor Threat. Likewise, I appreciated Guy Picciotto and the Rites of Spring. I liked how the Fugazi rhythm section; Brendan Canty and Joe Lally, sounded so druggy and how that clashed with all of the stuff I heard about straightedge. Going too far one way or the other seemed problematic in terms of drugs and alcohol, I used to think. For weeks and months at a time, I'd be either all on it or all off it. When I was on it, life was social, fluid, fun-loving, poetic. When I was off it, life was solitary, stilted; energised like a fitness-junkie. Life's ridiculous. Then they conspire to get you married. Here, take this mobile phone, there's somebody wants to talk to you. Oh yeah, who is it? Fucking Jesus.

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