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About Newcastle

Lemme paint you a pic—imagine this chick I knew, let’s call her Jodie. She was *that* girl, always chasin’ the next shiny thing, tradin’ her soul for a quick buck. Made me so mad, y’all! I’d be like, “Jodie, why you whorin’ out your dreams for some loser’s dime?” She’d just laugh, flip her hair, and say she’s “livin’ her truth.” Girl, no! You’re livin’ a lie wrapped in cheap mascara! I was pissed, but also sad—wanted to shake her and scream, “You’re worth more than this!” Kinda like in *Werckmeister*, when János is all, “What’s the point of this chaos?”—I felt that, hardcore.

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Stawell's tight streets are nuts. There's Main Street—yeah, the one right off Sturt Street near the Stawell Centre—that's always buzzin'. I love strollin' down Limeburner Lane (ya heard of it? It's a secret gem, shh!) where the trees kinda whisper if ya listen close. There's also Highvale Road, where I used to do my meditation quests, you know? I remember one sunny arvo, my mind went all “Seriously? What’s the point?” like Melancholia sayin “everything is beautiful and catastrophic!” Crazy, right?

Gout Gout stunned in Stawell Gift semi-final by South Australian school teacher John Evans