When I told Dad I needed the binoculars for bird watching, I wasn’t really lying. Most of the day I’ve used them to stare at Robin Davidson’s neck. I don’t even like him and I hate that he’s eating chips and gravy. They’d be good and salty and I don’t have any money. Robin isn’t from around here. He’s from somewhere big and you can see it on him, the way he moves. I wish I wasn’t from here either, that I could live somewhere else, even if it was only with Nan on the other side of town. When […]
Archives for September 2017
During the Melbourne Writers Festival I spend a day dressed in costume talking about Harry Potter. We drink beers and lie in the sun and I think about how many friends I have made by talking about Harry Potter. When I have been lonely, people who love these books have found me. I like Harry Potter but I like its fans even more. I go home at the end of that day, sleepy and nostalgic, and decide to reawaken my long dormant fan fiction habit. Harry Potter fan fiction was my first foray into fandom and diving back in feels […]
My three sisters had knee replacements on the same day, in the same hospital. The same surgeon made the incisions, the same anaesthetist put them under. The first was at seven in the morning, the next at eight, the last after ten. There was no muddling of the parts, no group discount. Three sisters: two left knees and one right knee. Femurs and tibias cut, worn-out knee joints ground away. Some say it’s a little like carpentry. Three custom-made prostheses hammered and ‘glued’ in place. Three button-like kneecaps stitched on to the front where three patellae were removed. The hospital […]
I haven’t had sex in a while. It’s by choice, but it’s also because it’s too goddamn hard these days to find someone who isn’t racist or who doesn’t give off bad vibes to just fuck. I’m also too busy. It seems to be a valid excuse. In a similar vein, I’ve only recently gotten back into reading. Reading books, that is—and reading for me, not for a review I’ve been asked to do. I try to use the ‘too busy’ excuse for this as well, but it doesn’t work. I feel guilty. Not only because I continue to acquire […]
1. I am sitting on the stage of the new Bowery Theatre. The theatre lights are shining straight at me. I can’t see the audience in the raked seating but when I shield my eyes. I see Leigh Bowery’s father, Thomas, in the middle of the front row, and guess that the woman sitting beside him is Leigh Bowery’s sister, Bronwyn. 2. I am supposed to speak about Leigh Bowery. I did not know Leigh Bowery and I do not know Leigh Bowery, much. The other people on the stage are the panel facilitator and two art experts. The lights […]
Yesterday I anticipated writing a short piece about the sea but instead I dived into it. The sky was clear, the day windless and warm. The beach I drove to, on the bay, is a familiar one: a short, steep incline via steps to reach the sand, biscuit-coloured in the bright sunlight, and from there the sea stretching to the blue horizon. It was more a necessity than a choice to go, to abandon writing about an enticing subject till, well, now. Yesterday I strode into the unusually calm water, up to my waist, and dived in. The experience was […]
It was this time last year that I made the decision to leave full-time employment and try and do something I’ve always wanted to do: start my own publication. When I made this decision, I had a very romantic view of how the following few months would play out. I imagined myself dressed in something bookish, like a crisp shirt, as I brainstormed ideas in notebooks over a fresh pot of coffee. I’m surrounded by publications: novels, non-fiction, magazines, immaculately designed art books. I would also finally be able to read all of the novels I have had on my […]
I recently had my very own The Slap moment. Inspired by the novel of another Greek-Australian writer, the episode left me questioning my own ‘hyphenated identity’ and pondering its portrayal in Australian literature. Like The Slap, my moment came at a suburban BBQ. My 86-year-old mum is recently widowed so to help her socialise again, I accepted a friend’s invitation and took her along with my wife and two sons. It was a family affair, with kids and sausages, but also brisket and beer. After a long day, one of the guests approached my mum, who at the time was […]
Plagues are the things of higher powers, and what has reigned down on Huntington over the past decade is corporate might of the most heinous kind, in a place where everyone is supposed to be free.
Giving up is such a long, slow slide,
something Icarus knew nothing about,
he fell so fast there was barely time
to lose faith in youth or flight.
Towards a new understanding Australia’s Indigenous people embraced the code of football developed in Melbourne and Victoria in the middle of the nineteenth century and made it their own. This began in the most difficult circumstances as a few remaining Indigenous people found ways of infiltrating and eventually overcoming the manifold barriers to their participation. The game of the invader was mastered by the invaded. They brought knowledge to the game from their own cultural practices and eventually gave it a deeper meaning. They innovated and expressed the game’s potential. What follows is an attempt to develop a new understanding […]