A new dawn was emerging in me; early 30's, overpaid and aware of it, in touch with first world guilt and white ennui, and worst of all, a postgraduate student, contributing something only worth anything to those who sat very highly on Maslow's triangle of stuff 1st year psychology students should probably remember. Is that still a thing?
I'm meeting a girl in her early 20's for the first time, and its Newcastle. My expectations were that my confessional openness may continue as it had over the last few months, during this new season of my life. Which ostensibly is hard in a working class city; during the lunch time noise (something about complaining about everything, and footy) I was the one leading the new conversation about our minds ease of adaptation to new circumstances, and why genuity in people wasn't something that happened, and why don't we talk about what we feel about our lives, or do people really not think them? To silence, except for the self explorations of my own voice.
This night my hope was to find a place where this would be nominal. Surrounded by those interested in the same. It was late, a Sunday, and the one outpost of civility for those who revel in entitlement and drink expensive wine, or those who just want a place for real and quiet conversation in a place that feels like home, was Goldberg's on Darby.
It's nice. A place where rustic homeliness has melted into the walls and become the oeuvre. I sat toward the back, early, drinking wonderful coffee, as the Night Beds sang various iterations of the gentle comfortable theme of this café. Soft flickering candle light, and happy people, and words of fading light and melting hearts and imminent beauty. She arrived, and memories shattered for a time, and we're in the courtyard, under the warmth of a heater. I had discarded any hope of a future immediately; she was the hope of the music and peace of my surroundings, covered in the beauty of perfect femininity and bright green eyes. Sadly, I'm just some guy, but free and profoundly blessed to have time with a new person to open myself to, and find new perspectives and the answers to life which had become so compelling in the preceding months; and what greater gift is this? Or what more precious moments could I have asked?
We glanced around at times, to the apparent disparate ages of the couple across from us, and the table of hipster 20 somethings, all scarves and beanies, and irony. Such is Goldberg's; a bastion of acceptance and like-mindedness for those who live in Newcastle and ask to find those like minded.