Be unmade

Every time I fly, I lose my grip on the world a little more. On Monday afternoon, I boarded a flight to Darwin. We took off facing the city before making a sweeping right-hand turn and pointing the nose towards Central Australia. I leaned my head against the window as we turned and searched for… Continue reading Be unmade

A Study in the Art of Revolution

1. ?It?s not about me.? On July 1 in South Australia, new laws come into force which will allow the attorney-general to declare any group of people a criminal gang and prohibit them from associating with each other. If they communicate more than six times within a year, they face 5 years imprisonment. I presented… Continue reading A Study in the Art of Revolution

Big Black Monsoon

Ann Blainey has recently published a new biography about Dame Nellie Melba, and today I spent my morning in the West Tower Suite on the 35th floor of the Sofitel listening to her speak about her research process, with salmon sandwiches and coffee courtesy of the Victorian Opera and my sweetest grin reserved for their… Continue reading Big Black Monsoon

The thing about The West Wing…

I’ve taken to getting up early and studying before midday. (‘Early’ being between 8am and 9:30am, and trust me, this is impressive.) I usually get an chapter or two of some convoluted postcolonial theory read, shoot off a couple of emails, find an article on the university databases and scribble a couple of paragraphs about… Continue reading The thing about The West Wing…

Sequelae

It’s 1:30am on a Saturday night and I am a) home – I know, right? – b) extraordinarily tired and c) unable to sleep. Last night’s chemically-enhanced six-and-a-half hour dance session to Limewax might have something to do with the first two, but sleep is something I rarely have a problem with. And I swear… Continue reading Sequelae

1:17

I like the sound of being alone. The buzz of the fridge. The hum of the central heating. The rain on the tin roof. My breathing. I like the way the space feels. The edges of my body tingle. The way I licked the honeypot tonight ? finishing one jar and starting another ? the… Continue reading 1:17

In between ‘house’ and ‘home’

When I was a kid, in primary school and up until about mid-way through high school, it was a habit of ours to spend about a week of the Easter holidays at my maternal grandmother’s house. We’d pile into the troopie with Mum (Dad rarely came due to shift work in the fire brigade) and… Continue reading In between ‘house’ and ‘home’