I’ve found a cure for the internet – and I think I might have overdosed

October 31, 2026 — 4:00am

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It’s 10pm Au Café de Paris and I’m at a Broadway open-mic night. There’s a gin and tonic fizzing on the table and an electric thrill in the air because the whole room is packed with adult theatre kids who can name every niche musical ever.

I haven’t touched my phone in hours. I’m not chasing dopamine down some infinite scroll. There is no boredom skulking in the corners of my Netflix-rotted brain, no algorithm whispering “are you still watching?” Algorithm, I am not still watching. I am here. I’m alive. I’m getting emotional about a song from a musical I’ve never heard of. Maybe – nay – definitely, there will be another G&T.

I wonder, is this the remedy? The antidote to that addictive, rage-marinated, attention-strip-mining disease that is the internet? Because in this restless street, in this unassuming bar, with a battered piano and a roomful of strangers, I seem to have accidentally overdosed on the cure.

The protocol is simple, if mildly terrifying. You arrive early, put your name down, and wait your turn. First-timers are gently talked out of singing, and for good reason: this is not your average open-mic night, where the expectation is set at “can........

© Brisbane Times