It Ends In Defeat…
In those weeks where Tottenham continued to lose, right up until that final game of survival, I asked myself why I kept following so closely. After all, it was devoid of any joy.
The Anti-Shag Pact
The conversation drifted, as conversations sometimes do, to the logistical difficulties of sharing a six-bed dormitory where sex could in fact occur in your bed without your knowledge.
The Reel and the Hyperreal
machine without a body, in and out, great free floating brain caressed, gentle movements across a neglected being, emaciated, feeble, shaking and quivering moanbreaths, in and out
PASSION 4 FASHUN: Ontology of the slippage (of sorts)
Let me elucidate: I know I shouldn’t be so comfortable sitting right up against strangers on the bus.
The Beatification of Sir Donald Bradman
The museum sits adjacent to the oval which, since 1947, has carried Bradman’s name, and where, at age 12, Bradman played his first game of senior cricket for Bowral Cricket Club.
MJ OVERMAN: The Knowing Artifice of Friedrich Nietzsche and MJ Lenderman
As exciting as Nietzsche’s ideas are to the music Tragic in me, I confess that I have no love for Wagner.
Kissing Kens
Instead, the Sydney youth night culture gravitates towards Newtown, popular with queer 20-somethings and teens.
Is Being Gay Cool Now?
Or maybe it’s not the fact of ‘gayness’ itself that’s cool, but the cultural cachet earned from having gay people in your social circle, however tenuous or protracted that proximity might be?
Becoming Pink
My dance with the Pink Masked Woman was my access point into a side of my feminine that had been curled into a ball, rolling from place to place.
Berde Doesn't Mean Envy (But We Know It Anyway)
Six weeks ago, the world blurred around me and my green chariot. The whirring motor drove me, brilliant and impulsive, through the humming darkness of a summer’s night.
Diary of an (Ex) LimeBiker™
Six weeks ago, the world blurred around me and my green chariot. The whirring motor drove me, brilliant and impulsive, through the humming darkness of a summer’s night.
Simple Beautiful Things
After interacting with the most pompous security guards on Earth, having their bags searched as though they are about to embark on an international flight, and parting ways with €12.50, they finally enter the museum.
How To Brine Olives
The Greek diaspora reminds me of the olives that have fallen around the trunk of my olive tree. Some have fallen on their own, others in aging clusters.
No More Need For Greenwashing
We hear the message that we are not on track, we have missed the deadline, there is no turning back. These ideas build on a narrative which is cloaked in familiar rhetorical patterns and continues to serve corporate interests, centring on the idea that technological innovation will shape our future, somehow transcending the bounds of the planet’s finite resources.
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…