I Saw God at Cameron Winter
This Opera House show was expected to be a repeat of his performance at Carnegie Hall in New York: stripped bare of everything but the music and a sense of cultural occasion.
A Sickening Performance: PULP’s Review of Drag 101: A New Drag Showcase
On Friday the 13th of February, full of spite from the working day, I stumbled down the stairs of the Cellar Theatre and sat my arse down on a metal bleacher for what would turn out to be the best evening of my week.
Laneway 2026 in the Sun, Rain, and Everything in Between
The sprinkling of water sent outfits into disarray, leaving hair a little more frazzled, makeup a little less blended, and everyone a little more ready to throw themselves around a dance floor.
Everything I Saw at BODIE8
As this performance explored the common myth of the changeling baby, it interrogated the way that myths justify the othering of individuals who live outside of social norms…
The Creatures in my Greenhouse March for Australia
Though some might argue that the roses had it coming, blaming their lack of resistance, too fragrant, too passive, too much.
Love, Death, Knitting
I still had bell hooks. And I still had my grandma. Knitting’s always helped, too.
How to figure out the way
Someone left their tarot cards and a book called Narcissism: Denial of the True Self in my room after a party at the old house.
11 November 2023
In my memories, we’re still just clueless children climbing water towers, alcohol running in our blood, watching the forest from above, under the summer sun.
How to be known
A brown glass decanter, bound in red leather. A sleeping pill bottle, unscrewed. A yellow pitcher. An empty toothpaste tube, A lightbulb, illuminated by cool fluorescence.
Last Night was a Rhizome: Italo Calvino and Breaking Reality with Serf Fiction
I have spent the past two to three years of my life being Sydney’s biggest Italo Calvino shill.
lost property
As I walk past the Quadrangle every morning, despite the now-manicured lawns, memories of the encampment linger in my mind.
Confessions with Caroline
She left in a flutter of perfume, cashmere, and the faint clatter of keys. The diffuser exhaled one last measured sigh of peppermint. Dr Clarke capped the pen, glanced at the clock, and opened the next file.
Return to the Playground
As I became older and five cents became an unappealing amount of money to receive for the arduous task of searching for tiny green caterpillars, I no longer wanted to help my mum.
LIMERENT LIGHT CONES
O my faun my hunter you are the soul of the whole room yes there is something in you in the curves of your cheekbones and the strands of hair; in pearlescent earrings, in the corners of your face in you, you are the edelweiss on the acme of Qaf or Meru
“A Tomb for the American Middle Class”: SUDS’ The Humans
Part family drama, part psychological thriller, Stephen Karam’s The Humans traps the Blake family in a dilapidated New York apartment for an uneasy Thanksgiving dinner. The play peels back the horror of modern American middle-class life; debt, illness, ageing parents, and unaccomplished dreams.
Theory, Self-Inserted: Practical Investigations of Gender and Sexuality
It’s blue and wriggling. Why is it wriggling? Turn it off, I pray, please let it die.
“Is it freaking you out that this goes in my butt?”
“No,” a little, “that’s awesome, I’ve just never seen one for real… before.”
He presses it to my leg and I feel a trembling in my bones.