Willagee my beloved,
I had a long day yesterday. A lot of work, bad traffic, and crowds of people everywhere. I was exhausted by the time I reached my hotel. I sat down on the bed and turned on the TV to kill some more time before sleeping, but my mind started wandering.
Then everything just focused clearly. You appeared in front of me. Your constant and unnecessary police presence instantly calmed me down, my tiredness evaporated and my spirits soared. Yes, my darling, you have that wonderful effect on me.
I started thinking about all my great memories of you. Like watching the hot boys in the year above me play football at Winnacott Oval on the weekend. Or the time I pissed myself in your local library at 8 years old because I hadn’t borrowed enough books to warrant the use of the bathroom key. Or when I was thrown out of your IGA for taking pictures of the endemic mould in the fruit and vegetable section. Even thinking about your drastically reduced homicide rate since the Birnies were arrested 32 years ago lifts me up.
But our relationship hasn’t been without its trials and tribulations. For someone with an irrational fear of driving tests, your licensing centre and 26 driving schools were always a lovely reminder that I can’t drive for shit and that I’m God’s mistake. Thank you for always keeping me grounded. Thinking about running to the bus through the congregation of deranged magpies in Spring still sends me into a frenzy. And honestly, how many fucking parks do you need?
But when I wonder where I might be without you disadvantaging my job applications, I remember that the only notable residents from Willagee were a couple of serial killers and that you’ve set the bar ridiculously low for me to do well. Reminiscing about our time together makes my ears ring with the sound of mobility scooters on full speed and fills my nose with the fumes of smoked ham from the D’Orsogna butcher shop on Stock Road. This is what home feels like. This is what you feel like.
Deni Campbell | @deni_campbell
Hi I’m Deni Campbell and my destiny is determined by my Nan’s decisions.
Love Letters to Perth Suburbs is inspired by the amazing work of Love Letters Zine. It’s an independent, printed publication dedicated to femme/non-binary people in music. It’s pretty phenomenal, and you can find out more about Love Letters from their Facebook Page or by following Love Letters on Instagram.