On Dit 84.1 - My First by On Dit

inside: we

ta k e

ingmar the

duldig

queen

teaches jordan

uofa student magazine

us to

how rome

to on

cool

and

our

first

d at e

- issue 84.1 - my first

Editorial Correspondence Whatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s On President Reports Vox Pop Articles Artist Profile Creative Reviews Diversions

02 03 04 06 08 10 24 41 44 46

On Dit is a publication of the Adelaide University Union. We recognise that the Kaurna people are the landowners and custodians of the Adelaide Plains. Ngaldu tampinthi Kaurna miyurna yarta mathanya Wama Tarntanyaku. Editors: Lur Alghurabi, Natalie Carfora, and Celia Clennett Sub-Editors: Karolinka Dawidziak-Pacek, Grace Denney, Brydie Kosmina, and Seamus Mullins Designers: Chelsea Allen, Anna Bailes, Daniel Bonato, and Georgia Diment Social Media: Nicky Mellonie Front Cover: Jack Hodges Back Cover: Yi Ling Bai Published: 22/02/2016

EDITORIAL

The first time I heard about On Dit, I thought it was a top exclusive Illuminati club with a secret handshake at the door and Jay Z as a longtime friend. Three years later, I am now editor, and can confirm we are indeed the Illuminati and Jay Z delivers our mail. On behalf of Hov, welcome to Uni. In the next few years you’ll do more things for the first time that you can count. You might learn Salsa, meet your true love, solve the Tupac murder, and even see your name and your work printed all over campus, right here in this magazine.

When I think of my first experiences working as an editor for On Dit, I think of my first experience in the cockpit of a Boeing 747. During my journey, one of the pilots explained how the star constellations were used for navigation. After this calm and enlightening experience, we ended up in the middle of a storm, the airplane experienced lurching turbulence and I white-knuckled my armrest while the three pilots focused intensely on the screens before them. One gave me a reassuring smile as I stared with horror at one of the red flashing screens, ‘Oh don’t worry, red means land.’

So, do you want to be so cool that a conspiracy theorist makes a whole web series about you? Do you want to have Jay Z on speed dial and ask Beyoncé what’s for dinner? Write for us. We’ll hook you up.

The point of all this? It is not going to be easy, but like the three pilots, while us editors are filled with passion, it wouldn’t be great without the other crew and its passengers.

*handshakes you secretly*, Lur

Cheers! Celia

When I think about it, recently I have done more things than I realised for the first time. I looked after a chicken and subsequently fell in love with all the chickens, I have made the god of all desserts, a PavolvaCheesecake (yes, it’s both a pavlova AND a cheesecake and yes, it was incredible), I used an Oculus Rift for the first time and freaked out about the future, and, most importantly, I helped make this magazine! I am a cog in the well-oiled machine that On Dit 2016 is, and I am ecstatic about it. Together with Lur and Celia, our team, and all of the talented writers, illustrators, and photographers, we made this for you. Whoever you are. You will find within these pages advice if you’re starting uni, a guide to enjoying the festival season for free, and tools for procrastination during the many boring introductory lectures coming your way. Yours, Nat

CORRESPONDENCE Dear On Dit, We need to talk about the trainwreck that is Macklemore and White Privilege. I think white privilege reaches its peak when someone uses rap to talk about thrift shops and how they’re ‘fun’ and ‘original’ and ‘oooh’, whereas minority groups shop there because institutionalized racism imprisons them in a social class that can only afford thrift shops. It’s also so contrived to fight for black people’s rights and then make a whole song asking if that was okay, and shift the focus entirely towards you. Let’s all remember that the problem with Macklemore’s music isn’t that he’s white, or that rap is a black people space. Macklemore’s problem is that his music is just bad and that’s why we’re all very angry. Sincerely, Anti-Macklemore

Super excited to hear On Dit is doing a queer edition this year. - Cai Langford, Facebook More chip reviews please, preferably in EVERY edition. - Masya Zabidi, Facebook Can’t wait to pick up a copy of @OnDitMagazine‘s 1st issue of 2016. =D - @thetempremental, Twitter When I edited @OnDitMagazine we would get through difficult times by photocopying our faces then posting the pics in our office. #EMNEWS16 - @ElizabethFlux, Twitter @OnDitMagazine You need Jesus. - @CalebJTriscari, Twitter

WHAT’S ON

ARE YOU NEW HERE?

O’WEEK PARTIES

HUNGRY? BROKE?

Clubsland 22nd-24th February Maths Lawns

Skullduggery Friday 25th February from 8pm Bonython Park $25

Breakfast Club Every Tuesday and Thursday 8:30-10am Fix Lounge

Crafternoon Station Tuesday 23rd February 11am-3pm Barr Smith Lawns Pop Culture Day Wednesday 24th February

Allday Friday 25th February from 9pm Fat Controller $40

Mega Comedy Jam Wednesday 24th February 4pm UniBar $10

Dis-Orientation Party Friday 25th February from 8pm The London Tickets at O’Week

Community and Volunteering Day Thursday 25th February 11am-2pm Hub Central Want to win passes to WOMAD, Fringe, or Adelaide Festival? Post a photo with your copy of On Dit or our Radio Reps with the hashtag #UofAStudentMedia for your chance to win!

** Present your copy of On Dit for a free baked good from the Student Media stall over O’Week! **

AUU Member’s BBQ Week 2 Wednesday 9th March 11:30-1:30pm Barr Smith Lawns $5 for Non-Members

DO YOU LIKE US? AND POST O’WEEK Lazy Breakfast Friday 26th February 11:30-1:30pm Cloisters Courtyard Koala Picnic Saturday 5th March 10:30-2:30pm Meet at the Hub Central for a walk through Morialta Conservation Park Bookings through AUU Website

On Dit Issue 2 Deadline 26th February We want your opinion pieces, creative writing, political pieces, listicles, artwork, and photography. Check out our content list online or email us with your ideas!

ARE YOU A BIT OF A KNOW IT ALL? DO YOU KNOW WHAT’S ON BEFORE EVERYONE ELSE? KEEP US IN THE LOOP, EMAIL US AT ONDIT@ADEL AIDE.EDU.AU AND TELL US ABOUT THE NEXT BAKE SALE, MEETING, PRIVATE LECTURE OR CLUB EVENT.

GOT CULTURE?

WHAT ELSE IS ON?

ARTS

Fringe Festival 13th February - 14th March

Adelaide Vegan and Foodie Picnic Saturday 27th February 12:30pm Bonython Park

Street Art Explosion 12th-26th February Multiple Locations

Garden of Unearthly Delights 11th February - 14th March Royal Croquet Club 12th February - 14th March Adelaide Festival 26th February - 13th March TED Annual Conference Wednesday 2nd March 7pm Evemt Cinemas, Marion For panel and tickets, see eventcinemas.com.au

Ring the Alarm: Nightcall Beyoncé Party Saturday 27th February from 11pm Rhino Room Double Shot! Coffee Fiesta Sunday 28th February 10-4pm Soldier’s Memorial Gardens, Unley

Womadelaide 11th-14th March

Waymouth Street Party Friday 4th March from 4pm

Oxfam 50c Book Sale Saturday 12th March 9-5pm Oxfam Bookshop, Hutt Street

Hutt Street Party Saturday 5th March from 5pm

Art Gallery First Fridays Friday 4th March from 5pm Bowie at Urban Cow Studios 3rd March - 2nd April Opening 7th March 5:30pm

SAY HELLO! Email: ondit@adelaide.edu.au Facebook: @onditmagazine Twitter: @onditmagazine Instagram: @onditmag In Person: George Murray basement, down the creepy stairs near the Barr Smith Lawns

STATE OF THE UNION

For first year students, welcome to the University of Adelaide, and for everyone else, welcome back. My name is Renjie and I am proud to be elected as your president for Adelaide University Union (AUU) for 2016. I am studying a combined degree of Mechatronics and Arts. My role in the Union is to lead the Union board, which makes decisions about our services and events, and to represent the students of Adelaide University to the public. Being the Union’s president, I also serve as the director for Adelaide University Union, member for Academic Board, director for Student Care, Sports Hub, and Campus Retail Services. We are committed to delivering a rewarding and exciting university experience. As your student representative, I am here to listen to what you are interested in seeing on campus, what you want from university, and what you need while you are studying. The Union was established in 1895 and we have just celebrated its 120th birthday. Since then, the

Union has always aimed to make student life fun and accessible and to give students a voice at the University. The Union runs a wide range of services including: academic advocacy, welfare and grants; events on campus; Student Radio and Magazine, On Dit; Employment and Volunteering Service, and so much more. We run the biggest and the best events on campus, from O’Week to other events, both big and small. With music, food entertainment, and much more across all campuses and throughout the year. If you want to make the most of your time at university, Union membership is a great place to start. It only costs $25 for a one year membership. It provides a whole range of benefits including social events, free lunches, competitions and giveaways, training and professional development programs. This also provides you with some fantastic discounts on campus and around the city.

Our mission is to enrich the student experience by ensuring that the student voice is heard and valued; that the full range of student communities is fostered and engaged; and the health, safety and wellbeing of students which allow for development, both individually and collectively. In here, I would like to say thank you to all our Union staff, especially the marketing and events team for their countless numbers hours they spent after work to organise this Orientation Week. Together we are here to make your life on campus the best experience; so if you have any questions, please come and check us out on Level 4 Union House. And while you’re there, you can grab a free 2016 Diary from the Union’s office. Here’s to your university experience in 2016! Renjie Du auupresident@auu.org.au

SRC PRESIDENT

In April 2013, the then Gillard Labor government announced more than $2 billion in cuts to university funding. A month later, I was at my first education protest, my start in a campaign that would continue under the Rudd/Abbott/Turnbull governments as we’ve continued to face down funding cuts, university restructures, and the deregulation of fees. Mass protests and chasing politicians off campus helped defeat fee deregulation and the $100,000 degrees that would come with it. The first time that deregulation got voted down in the senate I felt thrilled to have been part of a campaign that had engaged so many students and seen a real win. There’s nothing like the feeling of knowing you helped give Chris Pyne and Tony Abbott a bad day. At interstate universities we’ve seen cuts and restructures be announced in the last few weeks, while at Adelaide University each year seems to see more staff and courses on the chopping block. If you’re against that then make 2016 the year of your first student protest by coming to the education

rally on April 6th, where the Student Representative Council will be part of that still ongoing national education campaign. The Student Representative Council, or SRC, is the organisation of which I’m this year’s president. We’re all students elected by students, and we organise campaigns and events that deal with social and political issues on- and offcampus. It’s important that students have organisations of our own to stand up for our interests. If you agree, join the student union we’re affiliated to, the Adelaide University Union, or AUU, by heading onto their website: www.auu.org.au. A month after my first education protest, I went along to my first student conference. The 2013 Education Conference was held in Adelaide and activists from around the country debated the direction of the campaign and organised the next protest. A variety of student clubs came with arguments and opinions, and not long afterwards I joined my first student club, Socialist Alternative. I’ve continued to be an active socialist since, campaigning

against injustice and oppression. The AUU supports more than 130 clubs, so think about joining your first student club whether that be around a social issue, a cultural identity, a hobby, or a political group. As this year’s SRC President, I’ll be writing a column for each On Dit issue. This first column has been looking back on some of the activism of the last few years, but in future columns I’ll be writing about a bunch of contemporary social and political issues, and letting you know about current and upcoming SRC events. Over the course of the year I hope to be fighting for a bunch of new firsts, like the first dedicated scholarship for refugees at Adelaide Uni or the first equal marriage laws for Australia. With so many injustices to fight against, there are plenty of opportunities for passionate and political activists. So if you’d like to get involved in your first campaign, feel free to get in touch. All the best for 2016! Tom Gilchrist srcpresident@auu.org.au

VOX POP

WILL

ALLAN

ALEX

5TH YR, DENTISTRY

4TH YR, ECONOMICS

1ST YR, SCIENCE

1. Oh god... totalled a car? First time I’ve done that.

1. I went to Melbourne and to the Great Ocean Road.

1. What I always do, sit inside and watch Netflix.

2. Don’t wish it all away.

2. Be brave!

3. I like live comedy.

3. I’ll be in Bali.

2. Well, not to stress as much, because I am really really stressing.

4. Salt and Vinegar.

4. Original.

5. Fat. Dumb. Excited.

5. Conservative. Stupid. Rich.

3. I don’t really do anything, but... just Netflix. 4. Salt and Vinegar. 5. Idiot. Racist. Ick!

1. WHAT DID YOU DO FOR THE FIRST TIME OVER THE SUMMER? 2. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME TO YOUR FIRST DAY AT UNI, WHAT WOULD YOU TELL YOURSELF? 3. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE THING TO DO DURING THE FESTIVAL SE ASON? 4. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE FL AVOUR OF CHIPS? 5. DESCRIBE DONALD TRUMP IN THREE WORDS.

MARIAM

1ST YR, COMMERCE

1. I spent most of my time with my family in India. 2. I’m sort of nervous because it’s a new place. 3. Hang out with my friends. 4. Plain salted chips. 5. Racist. That’s it.

HENRIQUE

4TH YR, PRODUCTION ENG

PRISCILLA

3RD YR, CHEM ENG

1. I went to the East Coast.

1. I went to the Philippines.

2. It’s going to be a good adventure.

2. Have more fun! Every other year is a lot harder.

3. I am going to Bali with Allan.

3. Eat!

4. Chilli.

4. Salt and Vinegar.

5. Arrogant. Rich. Incisive.

5. Stupid. Idiot. Stupid.

FROM ADOLESCENCE TO ADULTHOOD WORDS BY: CARINA STATHIS ART WORK BY: CARLY HARV Y

University has a multitude of students at varying ages, ranging from fresh out of high school to mature-aged. That being said, everyone has, or will, experience the ‘make it or break it’ decade that is your twenties. Earlier this year in January, I hit this milestone and feel more like an adult now than I ever did at Australia’s legal age of eighteen. Although there is no set age of adulthood like there is with adolescence, I believe it occurs in your twenties. This incredible decade that is your twenties not only allows you to discover what you’re going to do with your life (for real), but is also your prime time. It’s the decade where you can take advantage of not being tied down to anything and have the absolute time of your life. Whether you go on spontaneous road trips, have cheese and wine nights with friends or go out on Wednesday evenings, you can practically do anything you desire according to your own budget and schedule. You’re a free spirit with limited responsibilities and a raw nerve with a constant energetic flow, so make the most of it! If there were any other time to live in the moment, it would be now. On the other hand, your twenties is also the decade where you have to

make it all happen. It’s usually the time where you finally get to answer that lifelong question everyone has always asked you, ‘what do you want to be or do when you grow up?’ Other items on the agenda may also involve moving out, working on your career, finding Mr. or Mrs. Right, settling down, seeing the world, or all of the above. Don’t freak out too soon. In a certain way, the beginning of your twenties is a lot like playing a game not knowing what the rules are, or building something without reading the instruction manual. Despite this frightening thought, however, perhaps this is what your twenties are for – to take more risks, be spontaneous, and discover what you enjoy and dislike. It must also be remembered that before most people turn twenty your life is still under the eye, or roof, of parents. Your twenties are going to be different and so much better! Your twenties will allow you to branch off, run around town, meet new people, see new places and do your own thing. This transition from adolescence to adulthood can also be a bit overwhelming. For the first time you are taking control of your life instead of someone else doing it for you. Admittedly it’s new, exciting and kind of scary, so don’t worry if you feel like a headless chicken running around not knowing what to do.

It’s important to talk about the reasons why being twenty, or twenty something, is both awesome and daunting. It makes us realise that there is no point waiting around anymore. There’s no point having lifelong dreams if you’re constantly thinking ‘I’ll wait for it to happen’ or ‘it’ll happen in five years’. Before you know it, you’ll be thirty and saying ‘wow, where did that decade go?’ Indeed, you can have the time of your life but don’t completely forget about the serious aspects of this era. Ultimately, everyone experiences the growth towards adulthood differently. For me, turning twenty was a large step disguised as a small one. I find myself wondering what the next ten years has in stall for me while still living in the moment of a free, crazy twenty year old. There are numerous reasons why your twenties can be considered the best decade of your life as well as the most life changing. All in all, just go with it, don’t think about it for too long, step out of your comfort zone and, most importantly, make sh*t happen.

Carina loves cheesecake and would love for you to check out her blog @everythingadelaide’

MY FIRST DAY: A FRESHER’S SURVIVAL GUIDE WORDS BY: AMY NANCARROW

Picture this: an under-prepared, naïve, over-excited eighteen year old girl stands on North Terrace on her first day of university. She looks up at Elder Hall, nervous, but excited to start her higher education. Picture that same girl, at the end of her first week, exhausted, totally in awe of everyone and everything that she had experienced, and everything she anticipates experiencing over the next few years. Yes, you guessed it: I was that eighteen year old girl. Well done. Ten points to Gryffindor. That was all the way back in 2009, when, fresh off a gap year, I decided to start my university life. Over the course of three years, I discovered many things, including (but not limited to): that you will spend far more of your university degree at the Unibar than you ever intend to; Ps do actually get degrees; and that, when it comes down to it, you get out what you put in. But, here’s the thing: for reasons that are too varying and complex to

explain here, there was a vast range of things that I wanted to do, or, in retrospect, should have done, during my time at Adelaide. Things may have changed since then; buildings have been demolished, prices have gone up, Unibooks is on its way out, but the essentials remain the same. Now I’m back to continue my further education after a stint in the big, wide world, and I have some pearls of wisdom to share. TIP 1: RELAX

As we’ve established, when I first started at university, I felt like I was surrounded by thousands of accomplished, intelligent-beyondbelief humans and that I didn’t fit in with them in any way. It was completely overwhelming. My advice to you? Relax. Everyone is feeling the same way. University is all about learning – things that will help you in the future, things that won’t, obscure things that ignite your curiosity. Try not to freak out and just enjoy the fact that there’s so much for you to learn. Revel in it.

TIP 2: GET INVOLVED

In the first few weeks of university, the sheer amount of activities, clubs, and courses can be a tad mindboggling. You’ll go one of two ways: you’ll want to join them all, or you’ll want to join none of them. I suggest landing somewhere in the middle: joining one of Adelaide’s many clubs is a great way to meet people with similar interests to you, or is a fantastic opportunity to open your mind up to new ideas, causes, and hobbies. Not sure what to join? At the very least, join the association for your faculty. It’s the best way to meet people in your degree, and the associations will keep you informed of networking events and the annual pub crawl. TIP 3: STEP OUTSIDE COMFORT ZONE

YOUR

In high school, a lot of what we learned was dictated by the state, the school, our parents, or the course we wanted to get into. Now that you’re at university, the curriculum is your oyster. If you’ve had a vague interest in 1960s literature, anthropology, gender politics, Chinese history,

language, or any other somewhat obscure course that looks tantalising, give it a go for a semester. The beauty of university is that you can try on any hat that you want. Don’t have any electives to play with? Refer to the above, and join a club that is something completely different to your degree. TIP 4: VOLUNTEER, VOLUNTEER, VOLUNTEER

I can’t stress this one enough. Particularly relevant to Arts and Humanities students, volunteering throughout your degree will not only help you build your professional network, but will make heading out to the workforce far less of a shock. When you eventually finish your degree, you are going to find that there are many, many people competing for the same jobs as you, and guess what? You all have the same degree. Volunteer now, get your name out there, and reap the benefits in a few years. We live in Adelaide, guys, who you know is just as important as what you know. Volunteering at a few different organisations, showing that you’re committed and hardworking will help you immensely in the long

run. Not only that, but volunteering early on will help solidify if you have chosen the right course for you and your skills. TIP 5: ENJOY EVERY MINUTE University is hard sometimes, but I promise you that one day you will look back on it as the best time in your life. Yes, exams suck, and group presentations are the worst. But there won’t be another time in your life where you can wake up late, roll out of bed, head to class for a couple of hours, and hang out with your friends all day, every day. Savour this freedom, and that there are so many avenues and possibilities for you to follow. Laze the day away in the sunshine on the Barr Smith lawns, go on the Engineering pub crawl at least once, and go on an exchange for a year. Enjoy everything that Adelaide and university has to offer.

Amy is a f ilm buff, doing her thesis on television, using the written word, researched online. It’s a media-based Inception.

ON MAEVE, AND MY FIRST GOODBYE WORDS BY: BRYDIE KOSMINA

I’ve always found it harder to accept something that comes out of the blue. I can cope, I can react in the moment, do all the right things and say all the right things – but somewhere in the back of my head, a little voice tells me ‘this is a trick, it’s all made-up,’ and I find myself looking for the hidden camera, Tim-and-Dawn from The Office style exasperated sigh ready. If I know it’s coming, I can prepare. I can process my emotions before they even need to be processed. When my grandfather passed away, I knew it was coming. Hell, the family had even been predicting what day he was going to finally leave (Good Friday, as it turned out; we joked at the funeral that maybe he thought he’d be resurrected three days later.) And maybe the reason I was able to look at my father’s face that day, and say, ‘Dziadzia?’* without needing my dad to respond, was because I had already lost somebody. I knew what

was coming. My first loss a decade or so earlier had already connected those neurons. Maeve was a shining star of a human being. The sort of kid that adults loved, and kids absolutely adored. She was smart, funny, happy. I know everybody says that about somebody who has died, but with Maeve, it seems truer than with others. She made you smile just by being near you. Even when she was upset, she was a diamond. She hurt her ankle once in a running race at the school sports day. She tripped and fell, and lay in the dirt, clutching her foot. When the teacher eventually managed to get her shoe off to peruse the damage, a lolly was discovered, pressing against her ankle; she had hidden it there for later. Maeve had a forest in her backyard. I was a kid, and accepted this as totally normal – didn’t everyone have a

friend in suburban Brisbane with a rainforest out the back? I’m more grateful for that obscenely beautiful, slightly dangerous backdrop to my childhood than I ever thought I would be. The sight of a tall tree still immediately presents itself as a challenge first and foremost; Moreton Bay fig trees still make me happy-cry. I remember Maeve showing us a particular tree that had leaves that tasted like liquorice (no idea what tree it was or if it was safe for humans). I remember the day Maeve’s dad, Frank, made a gokart with us, and we sped down their (enormous) driveway, going 100kms/ hour at least. I remember playing in Big Chair Park (random, ferny gully with a big stump in the middle), and in Little Chair Park (random, ferny gully with a smaller stump in the middle; completely different to Big Chair Park), in the Snake’s Lair (a section of the forest that was roped off which we decided was the

kingdom of a giant, basilisk-type snake), and in Beaver Dam (big pile of wood, home to giant, friendly beavers à la Narnia). But I can’t think of the forest without Maeve in it; it’s like someone cut down half the trees and tried to pretend nothing changed. Maeve played the violin beautifully. I learned as well, and was alright, in my own way. But while I scraped and sawed and was thoroughly adequate, Maeve was quick and fast and joyful. Listening to her play made me want to be better. She wore odd socks every day; usually four different socks, regardless of the Queensland heat. It’s a habit I’ve picked up since her death; an attempt to emulate her spirit and her joy, a decade on. Maeve had a particular affinity for cats, and often told people she was actually a cat from another planet. I have a small, stuffed cat that was

once fluffy and is now very ragged that sits on my bookshelf, and has done for 12 years now. Maeve died a month or so after my family moved to Adelaide from Brisbane. My childish brain both knew that she was gone, and decided that it was part of some elaborate trick. Everyone in Brisbane missed us so much that they all got together and decided that someone had to pretend to be dead, so we would come back and visit! Even when I saw her at the funeral home, when I kissed her on the cheek and held her hand, it still wasn’t real. It wasn’t Maeve in that coffin. I can’t think of so many things without thinking about Maeve. I think about her when I pick my socks in the morning; I think about her when I see a tree I know she would want to climb. I think about her when

I eat Minties, or when I hear a violin. I think about her when I smell fresh rain, wet earth and rotting leaves. That first loss has been hardwired into me, as everybody’s first loss is. I was irrevocably changed by Maeve, and then again by losing Maeve. After she died, after we saw her at the funeral home, we went to her house and mucked about in the forest for a while. My sister and I thought the wind in the trees was Maeve; she was still playing with us. Because that wasn’t Maeve in that coffin. Maeve is still playing in that forest, climbing higher and higher in that one, unclimbable tree. * d z i a d z i a ( p r o n . Ju d g e - j a h ) i s Po l i s h f o r g r a n d f a t h e r.

Brydie goes by the name ‘Emma’ at cafes because baristas can never get ‘Brydie’ right.

MY FIRST TIME AS A FOREIGNER WORDS AND PHOTOGR APHY BY: CHRIST Y JONES

The summer before I turned twenty, I boarded my first international flight. The seat I took had been booked since the February before, via my shaking EFTPOS card, whose owner’s (that would be me) hands shook with the ferocity of: what the fuck am I doing this is so much money how can I be spending this much money in one go this is terrifying ahhhhh. At nineteen-and-three-quarters, I had never set foot in another country. Travelling had been something I had dreamed about since I was old enough to conceptualise the idea. For this reason, the novelty and surreal-ness of what was happening did not wear off, even after the 9th hour of our connecting flight, when the threat of deep vein thrombosis was all too real. Nor when my knees decided they no longer wanted to be knees. Nor when, for the first time in my life, I cursed every inch I had grown since the age of eight. We got off the plane, went through customs, caught the hour bus ride to central Shinjuku, bumbled off the bus, got lost trying to find our hotel, found our hotel, checked in, collapsed on the hotel bed, left our stuff, and went out exploring. I have never been truly in awe until the moment we stepped outside our hotel. Standing next to the colourful vending machines in this forest of skyscrapers, bereft the stress of heavy

luggage and the prospect of short term homelessness, we simply took in where we were. Some background: I grew up mostly on small farms in places that no one has ever heard of. Where cows outnumber people and, of those people, everyone is decidedly Caucasian and has no interest of leaving the town, much less the state, much less the country. I was born in South Australia, schooled in South Australia, and have never experienced a moment in this country where I was not securely a part of the majority. And on the night of the 3rd of December, 2015, my partner and I found ourselves in a sea of people whose lives and cultures were inherently contradictory to our own. The neon street signs read Kanji we couldn’t fathom; teenagers walked around at midnight, still wearing school uniforms; shop workers stood on their doorsteps yelling “Irasshaimase!!” (‘welcome to the store’); the train lines looked like a fit of scribbles done by my three year old self; the KFC sold alcohol, the McDonalds had fish burgers; and, most notably, people stared at us. For the first time in either of our sheltered, South Australian lives, we were the minority. In a country where the population is 98% ethnically Japanese, we stuck out. However, this wasn’t the only the

thing that constantly reminded us of our foreigner status. The first time I properly understood the worker at Seven Eleven (who spoke only Japanese), was when he asked if I wanted my bento box microwaved, I nearly cried. I didn’t. But I almost did. Never before had understanding basic language been a triumph – but it was there. The time, three weeks into our trip, when I walked into a cafe in Kamata and asked tentatively in Japanese if they had an English menu, the workers looked at me with terrified eyes and shook their heads. I then struggled to read the entirely Japanese menu, as a line of entirely Japanese people formed behind me. I could read it, some of it, but slowly. Not wanting to hold anyone else up I eventually gave up and just pointed to a picture a BLT looking thing and asked, poorly, for two. Yet, in spite of the language barrier, we were never made to feel unwelcome. I did not realise that a culture so saturated by one ethnic group, would be intrinsically kind to foreigners. For example: on a two hour express train to Kanazawa, where our legs were squashed behind our luggage, a business man who sat next to me (who could not speak English), offered to take one of our bags and hold it next to his spare seat, making himself less comfortable, in order to make us more comfortable. Little old ladies held open the doors of elevators to

let us on. And, invariably, every time I could not speak enough Japanese to convey what I meant, the person with whom I was speaking was kind, polite and patient. The trip was, of course, filled with all of the usual things that holidays are filled with and, don’t get me wrong, it was amazing. I saw 1000 Buddhist statues at Sanjusangendo, went up to the top of Tokyo Tower, ate at three respective One Piece restaurants, cried with childhood nostalgia in The Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Osaka, went to Disneyland for the first time in Maihama, fed snow monkeys in Arashiyama, fed and subsequently got attacked by deer in Nara, climbed Fushimi Inari whilst sick, explored the bamboo forest in Kyoto while eating green tea ice-cream, found a five storey tall art supply store called Sekaido, and almost cried when I had to leave, was in awe of and fell in love with the Ghibli Museum in Mitaka, ate the best sushi of my life in Yokohama, ate the most amazing tonkatsu in Shinjuku, tried takoyaki in Harajuku,

got drenched at the Botanic Gardens in Kanazawa, flew past Mt Fuji on a Shinkansen between Tokyo and Maibara, bought an old school Super Nintendo at Akibahara, bought a metric craptonne of Manga, bought a metric crap-tonne of Ghibli related merchandise, and generally had the best month of my entire life. Aside from bragging about the above holiday that I spent my entire life savings on, I left with an understanding of something I could not have properly fathomed before I got there: it must be so difficult for people who come to Australia and cannot speak English. This is something that would seem obvious to someone whose first language is not English. However, as a person who has grown up in the privileged majority, I had never properly considered it. Basic language is so fundamental to communication and I cannot imagine how frustrating it must be for people who have newly migrated to this country. And I don’t pretend that my month-long holiday can properly enlighten to me to all of the adversities. Especially considering

that I was never met with racism, discrimination or even rudeness as many migrants are met with here. I suppose, in this article about my first amazing experience overseas, my true point is: IF YOU ARE READING THIS AND YOU ARE MULTILINGUAL AND/ OR NEW TO THIS COUNTRY THEN YOU ARE AWESOME AND I AM SO IMPRESSED BY YOU!!! Also, secondly, be nice to people (irrelevant of whether they are foreigners or not – it’s just a rad thing to do). I hope, genuinely, that everyone gets to travel and experience cultures other than their own (particularly if they, like me, have lived a very sheltered life in a country like ours). And I hope, finally, that they are met with kindness when they do so. Christy Anne Jones is a T.S. Eliot fan girl, green tea enthusiast and writer of fantasy stories about faraway places. She dreams of one day publishing a novel and owning a dachshund.

7 THINGS TO PRETEND TO BE INTO AT UNI WORDS BY: INGMAR DULDIG

So, you’ve finished year 12, and you’ve made it into uni. Congratulations. It’s certainly an exciting time, but it’s also a chance to reinvent yourself. Sure, you might have spent most of your lunch times in high school playing online quizzes with your 3 friends, but this is a brave new world, and you have the chance to shrug off those losers and finally hang out with the cool people! It won’t be easy though: being really popular on campus requires years of pretension and studied indifference. Lucky for you, I’ve compiled a cheat sheet of things cool people like - just pretend that you really enjoy these things, and I’ll see you at Transmission (whatever that is) in no time. 1. NOT LIKING STUFF If there’s one thing that literally every Big Name on Campus does, it’s shitting on stuff other people like. And be an iconoclast - the bigger the better. Nothing turns

heads at Unibar like a person saying ‘The Beatles were actually pretty derivative’ or ‘pizza isn’t all it’s cracked up to be’. The biggest piece of advice I can give you, from one fabulously popular person to another, is that to really ooze chic, you need to appear to be a person who hates everything other people like. 2. ALCOHOL Let’s face it - alcohol is terrible. Red wine tastes like medicine, spirits are like drinking petrol, and beer tastes like I-don’t-even-know-what. The only alcohol that is remotely drinkable is that sugary raspberry vodka alcopop, but you’re not a twelvie so that’s out of the question. The trick here is to work your poker face. Stand in front of the mirror with your drink of choice (for Arts people, this will be your local craft beer - Law and Med students are gonna have to shell out on some

heavy grade Shiraz, while members of the Socialist Alternative, as everyone knows, drink Chardonnay), and practice slurping down the poison without looking like you’re about to throw up. The sooner you can get used to the taste the better, since most cool people at uni are dangerous alcoholics. 3. BEAT POETS This is a good one for the Arts students - pretending to really love books that are in reality incredibly pretentious and frankly unreadable will really impress your English professors. Just pick a novel or poetry collection that’s bizarre and pompous enough to have developed a cult following of masochistic readers, but well-known enough to have a Wikipedia page. My suggestion is Jack Kerouac’s flatulent classic On the Road, but anything by Allen Ginsberg or William Burroughs will suffice.

4. OBSCURE MUSIC These days, it’s not enough to nod along to the latest summertime jam on Hit107 - you need to be tuned into the most obscure music you can find. My advice is to say you love 60s proto-punk bands like the Fugs or the Shaggs - nobody is likely to have heard of them so it’ll be easier to pull off. Or, if you’re a privately educated Law/Commerce student, just crack out daddy’s classical music CDs and say ‘I think Beethoven is the true punk rocker’. 5. FILM Sure, any moron can say they like movies. But you’re cool, and if there’s one thing coolness demands, it’s arbitrary specificity. You don’t just watch any old shit, you only watch Japanese films from the 1970s or Hungarian horror movies. As with any art form, the more niche the better. You don’t want people finding out that you’re a fraud and

would be quite happy watching The Dark Knight for the 400th time instead of whatever Romanian thriller is playing at Palace Nova. 6. PEOPLE Look, you know it and I know it, people are scary, mean, and quite honestly, not worth the bother. Any sane person would rather be in their PJs watching The Living Room than out on the town on a Friday night, but the sad reality is that you have to pretend to be at least somewhat interested in people in order for them to like you. This is a tricky one - you don’t wanna seem desperate, but you also don’t want people to not notice you’re there. The trick is to develop an aloof yet tantalizing pose. Show the commoners that you’re a nice person, but you want to give a hint of the vast recesses of intelligence and sheer deepness within.

7. NOT TRYING I’m sorry to break it to you, but at some point in your uni career, you’re going to do poorly in a subject that you tried really hard at. Now, I could tell you that it gets better, that everyone suffers disappointment, but that would be missing the point. Maybe it was cool in year 12 to try and do well at your school, but at the tertiary education level we prefer to go back to the good old year 10 days when we pretended it didn’t matter that we got a C for Australian history and only shed a tear in the privacy of our own home. If you’re actually a lazy person, then rejoice! If there’s one thing cool people enjoy, it’s handing in assignments days late and telling their friends their epic yarns of indolence.

Half of Ingmar’s own family don’t know how to pronounce his name. Just say every letter!

FIRST TIME LIVING OUTSIDE OF ADELAIDE WORDS AND PHOTOGR APHY BY: R ACHEL WONG

‘I am a capable and independent person.’ This is what I told myself embarking on my semester abroad in England, where I was fending for myself the first time. The first time I would be living with strangers, doing all my own cooking, cleaning, and laundry in a foreign environment. I was excited! Note to future travellers of Britain, the food sucks. If you’re accustomed to the fresh, authentic and diverse range of food and produce we get in Australia you will be severely disappointed. They love to drink tea all day and eat baked potatoes for dinner. Also because the Australian dollar was so poor, as a lowly student I couldn’t afford nice meals and bought all my groceries from Aldi. For four months I was on a diet of pasta and toast… and gained 10 KGS!!!! The people I lived with were ‘freshers,’ and since I was already in

my fourth year of university I ended up taking a more nurturing role in the flat. My housemates included; Girl who had been controlled by conservative parents all her life, and her new college freedom meant she was out drinking and clubbing every night… for 3 months straight. Honest to God, I don’t know how she survived. The athletic jock boy who had girls over all the time and played them swooning guitar music late in to the night. And of course, the naive, innocent boy. I will never forget him, incredibly sheltered and is THE most frustrating person I have ever met. I had to take him through a step-bystep guide on how to boil spaghetti. The top shocking things he asked me were: ‘what is ISIS?,’ and ‘Michael Jordan… is he the guy who played Sirius Black in Harry Potter?’ The best part of living abroad is travelling to places for the first time.

When deciding whether to go to the environmental law lecture over somewhere new, travel always won. It was worth the two final weeks of uni that I spent locked in my room completing assignments. My experience can be best encapsulated by showing up to a lecture on two hours of sleep because I just got off a plane from Barcelona, and I had to sign the attendance sheet or face being deported. I met many hilarious people, broadened my cultural understandings, and ate pizza at 5am with my flatmates more than once. Probably one of the better ‘firsts’ in your life.

Ya girl Rachel loves petting rabbits and eating fried rice on the daily.

MY FIRST DATE WITH THE QUEEN WORDS BY: LUCA RICCI PHOTOGR APHY BY: STEFANIA SEPULCRI

During my visit to Italy, I had the privilege to attend the conferral of an honorary doctorate to Rania Al-Abdullah, Queen of Jordan. As excited as I was, I couldn’t help but ask myself a few questions about this remarkable character. What makes Queen Rania so special? Not only does she act as a Jordanian public figure, but also as an international activist, defending the value of education for children and women. In addition, once you realise that she is a Middle-Eastern woman, she becomes an ambassador for Islamic society, allowing us to develop a different perspective. Even though we’re constantly bombarded by the media’s report on Islam’s “oppressiveness”, we shouldn’t be surprised that the Queen’s popularity is widespread. As Westerners, aren’t we shocked that Rania does not fit into any of the anti-Muslim remarks? For instance, she is not submitted to nor oppressed by a patriarchal hierarchy. At the same time, she doesn’t wear a burqa in public. Instead, she freely expresses her opinions through rational actions and fashionable attire. As she has brilliantly demonstrated in

Rome, East and West are just social constructions, which need to be dismantled in a modern world like ours. AN ERA WITHOUT MEMORY Jordan’s position within the Near East does not allow for an easy administration, especially in the past few years. Given the presence of Daesh, Jordan has had to face increasing difficulties. While King Abdullah is concerned with the political issues, Queen Rania focuses on the important social elements that underpin the nation’s development. In particular, she has improved and implemented the role of education. Through the creation of the Madrasati Association, Rania financially and technically helped organise public schools throughout the country, demonstrating her concern for the Jordanian youth’s future. For Jordan to become part of the international community, Her Majesty has understood the importance of investing in the younger generations. While Daesh recruits kids with guns across the borders, Rania created the first

interactive children’s museum, aiming to nurture lifelong learning for children and their families. ‘Wisdom comes from responsibility to the future,’ as she pointed out in her speech at Sapienza University (Rome). She highlights the important and dynamic function of tertiary education as intermediary between past and future. While archaeological sites, like Palmyra, are being demolished, Rania says, ‘We are not only losing culture, but also our own identity.’ Collective wisdom is necessary to overcome the obstacle of warfare. Not only would education give us a better understanding of the world, but, as Her Majesty mentioned, it would also repel the emergence of a new era: AD, After Daesh. An era without memory. NEW ALLIANCES AND A NEW MENTALITY As we have seen, Rania’s basic agenda is to spread education worldwide as a starting point for cross-cultural and interfaith dialogue. In an era during which the media depicts Islam as a strict and intolerant

belief, Queen Rania embodies the exact opposite. She believes that humankind can improve the current socio-political situation only through the understanding and tolerance of diverse cultures. In Rome, the Queen pointed out that Daesh’s actions must lead to a turning point for humanity. She does not see this as a struggle of Muslims against Christians, conservatives versus liberals, or East versus West. She understands that this is not any particular country’s war. Each nation should take part in the battle against a single enemy. What the international community needs is an effective coalition. The historical struggles between East and West should be overcome: the Crusades belong to a bygone age. Modern nations, instead, should abandon religious pretext, instead allying under the banner of common good. In order to achieve this, we must develop a new mentality. We need to work closely together with people we were suspicious of. As the Queen highlighted, sometimes forced alliances might provide innovative solutions since different and diverse ways of thinking are brought together. Cross-cultural dialogue does not only

serve the purpose of increasing acceptance. It also allows societies to cast aside centuries of prejudice against specific groups. In a society as civilised as ours, differences in physical appearance or religious belief should not be the cause of political and social strive. Instead, these differences should underpin the development of a new society in which different cultural groups can coexist in peace. INSHALLAH Rania’s presence in Rome acquires a deeper significance because a Christian country celebrated a Muslim woman. Although I have noticed many islamophobic remarks and incidents in Europe, the intellectual circles acknowledge the work of such a remarkable figure. Rania constantly strives to dispel the Western prejudice against the Middle East’s backwardness and oppressiveness. The media continuously show how medieval and barbaric Islamic extremists are: not only are Daesh driving people away from their houses, but they are also causing the destruction

of culture and heritage. Even if Daesh displays brutality, Westerners still make a terrible mistake: they ignorantly apply that conduct to the wider Islamic culture. Queen Rania has understood the implications of the media’s report about Middle Eastern events. Indeed, ISIS has caused damage to people and heritage. However, not all Muslim countries can be accused of the same ferocious barbarity: many tourists go to Islamic nations to admire the artistic and natural beauties without incurring in any danger. Hence, the Queen’s strong presence on social media aims at bridging the ideological divergence, seeking to create a sense of awareness in the West. An awareness which employs education as a rational tool to overcome prejudice and hearsay. In an era which sees extremist groups threaten the long-sought peace of the world, only multicultural respect, understanding and tolerance can make a difference between future prosperity or sudden doom. Luca is an Honours student who spends his summers roaming across the Italian countryside looking for archaeological sites.

ARTIST PROFILE: JACK HODGES

Predominately a muralist but also a practicing painter, illustrator, installation artist, writer, photographer, and digital artist. Jack’s work incorporates political subjects and content to inform and confront everyday people with structural injustices. Other work consists of colourful, cosmic natural worlds slightly reminiscent of Dr Seuss, Erik Parker and Dhear, using styles and shapes from the street and liberated hand movements. Jack’s drive to make art has been formed by the need to enrich and provoke change in the everyday world based on monetary success. It is about the appreciation of the natural world and the importance of imagination. Jack’s art is made from things found around him and is inspired by experiences, places, immediate surroundings, and his cultural and social position. In 2013, Jack undertook a mentorship in Mexico City with Mexican muralist Jesus ‘Dhear’ Benitez helping him paint the humongous walls at the Homeopathic National Hospital in Mexico City. This wall was the first collaboration between a street artist and government in decades. It is now a protected wall. In 2015, Jack undertook a residency with interdisciplinary artist Bill Shannon in Pittsburgh, where they built a digital identity projection mask for the Pittsburgh Art & Tech festival. Jack has been experimenting with video inspired sculptures using pico projectors since then.

LOVE ISN’T VOLUNTARY WORDS BY: ROB L AWRY

Trains are disgusting. They’re sticky, smelly and they never go where you want them to. Bad as this may seem, this is nothing compared to the filth I regularly hear on them; sit within four rows of some slack-waisted, piercing-faced layabout and his “homies” and you’re bound to hear some puerile yacker about “biddies” and “intercourse” - like that’s all there is anymore on God’s earth!

with the other children out-running me in our game of chasey. It was from here that things took a turn; fate reared its head and, for the first time, she was there.

Barrow must have felt when Bonnie made him her boyfriend and forced him to tag along with her on the lam. But alas, as with all great romances, ours too had to end.

Her name was Gert. She moved toward me with a smile and I could see our whole future playing in her eyes. At that moment, I knew only one thing: I am so, so scared of her.

Back in my day, we had our dignity. We had none of these modern apps like GrindMand or Tind-It, no siree! In my day we relied on a little thing called human-bloody-interaction! So in the interests of reliving those better days of our species, I thought I would recount for you my first romantic encounter. Pay attention, you might just learn something now.

‘You’re so cute,’ she tells me, ‘are you Duncan’s little brother?’ I think I managed to mumble ‘hello.’

We were by the drinking fountain, as Gert laid down the rules of our continued relationship. She told me that I liked her and that we were to continue meeting. As she poised her cheek for me to kiss it, I remember only the surge of relief as the school bell rang, ushering me back to class.

*** I was not yet a man at the time. I kept to myself mostly but I was aware of certain appetites growing in me. When the bell for lunch rang, I knew these could finally be satisfied as I threw down my crayons and headed out for playtime. The next forty-five minutes began as they usually did,

From that moment we were inseparable. Everywhere she wanted to go she would force me to tag along: the school oval, under the bushes in the garden, back to her class to grab (I imagine) cigarettes, you name it. This was serious stuff. At that age I was already aware of sex (Brendan Sullivan had explained to me how a girl and a dude rub their willies together) but I had not yet come to fully embrace these facts. Thankfully, nothing we did ever came close to that; she mostly just walked me around the schoolyard out of teachers’ sight but it was still thrilling nonetheless! I honestly believe this was how Clyde

*** You see? This is the sort of genuine, life-defining encounter you smartphone zombies can only dream about or read in a slickly edited student magazine. Pfft. I guess that’s why you’re where you are right now, and I’m where I am - crying myself to sleep, unable to remember if I did have to kiss her or not as if any of that even matters now anyways I don’t want to talk about it.

Rob enjoys digging up his repressed memories for print. He does it for the money.

A QUARTER LIFE CRISIS WORDS BY: ERIN HEFFERNAN ART WORK BY: JACK LOWE

What are you studying? Are you in a relationship? When are you planning to finish uni? Are you actually going to finish uni this time? Can you make rent this week? Are you budgeting? So your best friend’s engaged, surely you won’t be far behind? Are you travelling, you SO need to do that. If any of that sounds familiar to you, than I’m sorry for the slight anxiety that it probably induced. Those that can relate, you’ll likely understand how these questions seem to take on a life of their own, becoming a big looming cloud I’ve come to call, “The Quarter Life Crisis”. The pressure that these innocent, but constant questions seem to create about making decisions, makes me feel like I’m failing to live up to a timeline of everyone else’s expectations. There is this never ending battle to fight off these questions because once you’ve figured out the answer for one,

there is without a doubt another one to follow. Well, as they say, the only way to fight fire is with fire, so I’ve made the decision to not make any more decisions and to not feel bad about it either. We are at a strange age; an age where we are taking on adult responsibilities, but still handling them at an adolescent level. Where we are still dealing with all our teen issues of avoidance, drama, and awkwardness but at the same time, we know that this doesn’t work for us anymore. These crazy up and downs we are experiencing might have something to do with being on the cusp of adulthood, god forbid, and our coping techniques just aren’t working anymore. We are being forced to embrace maturity, kicking and screaming or otherwise referred to as drinking and denial.

2015 gifted me with a lot of these lessons. But after much resistance, some counselling, and lots of wine, I’ve decided that I’m not sure there’s much I can do right now, but accept the inevitable chaos. I know I’m not going to have the answers to those questions any time soon, so I may as well give myself a break for a while, right? We’re all doing the best we can, and like I said, this is a strange time for us; let’s cut ourselves some slack. So for me this will be the first time, the first year, without pressure. Just a year to experience life as it comes; no expectations, no shoulda woulda coulda, no timelines. Just a whole lot of being in the moment and riding out this quarter life crisis as best I can. Erin can f ind a meme for any occasion. It’s the memeing of life.

VIRTUAL REALITY WORDS BY: SEAMUS MULLINS ART WORK BY: STEPHANIE CHEAH

One afternoon in late October last year, in a bustling and hectic Melbourne Convention Centre, I found myself wandering around PAX Australia, the largest video game convention down under. Filled to the brim with hundreds of publishers and developers, showing off their latest projects to thousands of eager gamers and the media. It was there, in those busy and hectic halls, that I finally had the chance to experience Virtual Reality.

by an indie developer from Sydney, and there was quite the line to play it. I watched as others pulled on a lumbering headset, and proceeded to go through similar motions of astonishment and bewilderment, as they were transported to another world. It was funny and silly to watch, but immensely intriguing, and by the time it came for me to step up to the booth and pull on the Oculus Rift headset, I was trembling with excitement.

Not only was it my first time attending the Penny Arcade Expo, but it was my first time trying out the jaw-dropping tech that is virtual reality, which has been one of the biggest talking points in the video game industry over the past few years. After reading extensively about the technology in the lead up to the commercial release of the Oculus Rift, the most well-known VR device, I’d somehow never tried out the phenomenon for myself. Now I finally had my chance. And I wasn’t disappointed.

After a few final calibrations and adjustments, the monitor consuming my view lit up, and I found myself in a lush and beautiful forest. At first it seemed simple enough, but as I turned my head, and my view moved with my physical movements, I found the forest all around me. Not matter where I looked, behind me, to the ground and the sky, the world surrounded me. It was a moment of euphoria, as I was completely immersed in my digital environment.

The VR game I played was We of the Woods, an adventure game created

As I turned back to the view ahead of me, I found a fox sitting on the forest floor, seemingly asleep.

Completely absorbed and immersed in the experience, I attempted to walk towards it, and found as I took each physical step in the real world, I actually moved closer to the fox. After which it opened its eyes and turned towards me, with a look of intrigue and uncertainty. Moving my hands forward trying to pat the fox in from of me, I was brought back to reality at the realization that I couldn’t actually touch the digital fox. At that moment, the headset was removed, and I was brought back to the busy convention centre. Although it was only a small and limited experience, it was awe inspiring, mystifying, and perplexing all at the same time. To be whipped away and immersed in an entirely different environment in seconds, was dumbfounding, and it was then I understood why the technology had garnered such praise and hype over the past few years. That was my first time trying virtual reality, but let me assure you, it won’t be my last. Seamus is busy selling his PS4 and Xbox One so he can pre-order an Oculus Rift. He hopes it’s worth it!

EMPTY WALLET ENTERTAINMENT WORDS BY: SAMANTHA SMITH ART WORK BY: CARLY HARV Y

Adelaide is a small city with a lot to offer, especially with the upcoming festival season. However with the abundance of shows it can be hard to pick, and it is equally hard on the uni student budget. That is why I am writing you this guide on how to enjoy the festival season without spending a dime on tickets. Over the years the Adelaide Fringe Festival has grown from a few shows and stalls to one of the biggest festivals in the country, with national and international acts coming to our city to entertain. There is so much on offer and not all of it will cause you to dig deep into your pockets. The most popular of the free venues at the Fringe is the Garden of Unearthly Delights in Rundle Park. The Garden offers a plethora of entertainment and delicious treats. A good way to enjoy Fringe entertainment is to attend the Bank SA free concerts, where Fringe performers perform segments of their shows. With the free concerts, pop up shops, and food stalls, the Garden is sure to fill up quick so make sure you arrive early to ensure you get in.

The next free event is sure to get your creative juices flowing, or at least make your eyes shine from being starstruck. Adelaide Writer’s Week has a huge panel of influential writers, journalists, and activists like that of Magda Szubanski, Jennifer Clement, and Kerry O’Brien. The event runs from the 27th of February to the 3rd of March at the Pioneer Women’s Memorial Garden. Each session will go for 60 minutes and is 100% free. The Adelaide Royal Croquet Club is another venue that ties together entertainment, food, and drinks. The venue is lit up and often has large displays that spread across Victoria Square. However, entry is only free until 7pm, after that it is $5 unless you have bought a ticket to a show. However if you prefer to just go to a show rather than wander around the majestic gardens and Croquet Club, then here are some of my recommendations: 233 Free Comedy at Edinburgh Castle is a free comedy night that runs over two weeks. At the end of each set you

can pay what you think it’s worth (or really as much as you can spare for the week). Adelaide City Explorer is an interactive app that guides you to find out the secrets and stories of Adelaide. The app can be downloaded for free from both the App Store and Google Play. Blood, Sex, and Tears is a truly interactive and confronting – how does one phrase this? – …recording. It isn’t an act, but more an activity where The Grand Caravan sends you into a private recording booth with a conversation starter and you just speak the truth. Once they have collected all sorts of nitty gritty stories they then transform it into a soundscape for all to hear. There you have it; the top events this holiday season that won’t put a dent in your daily coffee fund. Samantha is a third culture kid who loves talking to anyone about anything - which gets her in trouble sometimes.

A GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO SEXUAL HARASSMENT ETIQUETTE WORDS BY: EMMA O’CONNELL-DOHERT Y

AUSTRALIAN POLITICS EDITION

actually counted in the census. God they were good, those old days.

Remember, the internet is now a thing. So if you are going to sexually harass a government coworker, please make sure you do it in the way our founding forefather politicians did, back in the good old days. You know the good old days, when people weren’t such politically correct femiNSDAPS.* In the good old days, people were just more laid back about nice guys/prominent political figures named Jamie trying to flirt with attractive women. You could be a bit saucy without anything spreading around the internet as swiftly as Genital Herpes, couldn’t you?

Unfortunately in modern times, if you want to take a photo of a woman and show it to the lads, you should make every effort to avoid that being leaked to the media. I mean of course obviously still do it. Just be very wary of modern technology because all kinds of mishaps can happen when you go around messaging people, and you’ll end up looking like a right mad fucking witch if you have a slipup. From now on you’ll have to take a physical picture, maybe using a nice old Polaroid camera.We live in a technological world, and spend so much time behind screens. So think about this as an occasion where you put down your phones to have a look at a photo you took of a co-worker, and an opportunity to genuinely have a face-to-face conversation with the lads. Look your fellow lads in the eyes. Look together at the Polaroid you took of the female staffer who is working for you. Slap each other on the back. Bond.

Aah, those good old days aye. You could be proud to call yourself an Australian. You know, the good old days, when McDonalds soft serve was cheaper, there was no daylight savings and Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians weren’t

***

*Am trying to be linguistically inventive here. Look, yes, the portmanteau ‘feminazi’ is completely ingenious as it economically weds together the words ‘feminism’, the movement that seeks to establish rights for women, and the shortened name for the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei, an extremist rightwing German party of the 1930s. The Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei, whose main policy objectives, along with genocide, were to ban women from teaching at a tertiary level and from working in politics or medicine. It’s a wonderful, concise and clever word, this ‘feminazi’, but I think we overuse it. I’ve said ‘feminazi’ so much in the past year, mainly to strangers I don’t know on the bus that it doesn’t have that wow factor anymore, you know? It doesn’t zing.

Emma is a writer and arts reviewer. You can read her Fringe reviews at greatscott.media.

A LITTLE SINCERITY IS A DANGEROUS THING... WORDS BY: GR ACE DENNEY

I have, during the course of my life, been known to deliver rather brutal, fish-slap-in-the-face kinda honest comments. The rude lady in the store became Aunt Marge If She Were To Be In A Eurovision Contestant, complete with fuschia buttonpopping shirt, electrocuted hair and blue eyeshadow. My best friend stepped out in her outfit for a night out, and I told her she resembled Jessica Simpson in Dukes of Hazzard (‘Come on Willy!’). It’s not that I’m a bitch, or I want to hurt people, but I value honesty. If I try on a skirt and I look like a half wrapped salami, I want someone to tell me, not let me parade around like I’m about to be the hottest new thing at the Kilburn Coles deli. So, here’s to being honest. And more importantly than being honest about your opinion, being honest about things that are important like you know, feelings. Yes. The F bomb. It’s the hardest thing in the world to look someone straight in the eye and say, ‘When you did X, I felt Y.’ It reminds me of those primary school sessions where your class would be taught to say that exact phrase (or another classic: ‘Stop, I don’t like this!’) to bullies who stole your doughnuts or put whoopee cushions on your seat. Expressing *gulp* feelings, has always been too kumbaya for me. Is it my staunchly conservative British heritage, or simply a defense mechanism I’ve acquired from years of societal expectations/shitty personal experiences?

You know when you’re really busting to pee? Like busting so bad that you have to sit or stand somewhat awkwardly and maybe maintain a conversation without looking like you’re about to have a stroke? And you’re thinking about all the times you could’ve (and should’ve) gone to the bathroom before now but you were too stubborn? And then you finally go and the angels sing a chorus of hallelujah to you whilst you read the lyrics to Saddle Club someone graffiti-d on the back of the cubicle door and think MY GOD WHY DID I HOLD THIS IN FOR SO LONG I LOVE TOILETS? That’s what being 100%, completely and wholly honest with someone about something really important – your feelings - is like. The relief is immense; the angel chorus imagined. How many times have you regretted not saying something, for fear of sounding crazy/clingy/sad/too harsh/too nice/too much of a pushover? The ‘what ifs’ become more unbearable than the original fear of simply saying it. You might sound like all of the above, but you also might sound like none. You don’t have to be mean or harsh in how you say it; you can be honest and polite. And if the person doesn’t like your perfectly civil honesty, then perhaps they’re not someone who really clicks with you anyway. If you hold it in, you’re lying a bit to yourself and to them, in a way, by not being genuine with your communication. People can’t read minds and reacting truthfully is the only way to make it clear on how you

stand on an issue. You’ll probably be glad you said ‘fuck you’ to the person who made you really mad one day down the track. And if you don’t say ‘I love you’, even if it is unrequited, I guarantee you will stew over it at the most unpleasant, unwanted times in the future. You’ll be lying on your deathbed one day thinking ‘GOOD GOD I WISH I TOLD KASHANTÉ HOW AMAZING HER BOOTY LOOKED IN THAT KOOKAI SKIRT GODDAMN I WISH I’D SAID HOW MUCH I WANTED TO BONE HER. Or, I WISH I’D TOLD KEV I LOVE THE WAY HE SNORES AND OCCASIONALLY LAUGHS LIKE VOLDEMORT UNDER HIS BREATH IN HIS SLEEP. IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS I ADORE.’ Tell your lecturer they have the technological skills to rival a single cell organism in your SELTS. Tell your Mum not to nag you because hey, you’re not actually 6 and watching Cheez TV to evade getting ready for school. Tell Kashanté u want the booty. Tell Kev he’s kinda freaky. Because I guarantee even if the result isn’t what you’d bargained for, the relief long term will outweigh the potential negative. DO ITTTTTTTT. JUST DOOOO ITTTTT. *** N.B. Still pick your moments. Sometimes little white lies are needed for the sake of preserving civilized society. Grace is a dancef loor enthusiast masquerading as a Law/Arts student. Her hair is sometimes big and always full of secrets.

I DIN’GO TO SCHOOL FOR THIS WORDS AND PHOTOGR APHY BY: ELLIOT LEWIS

MY FIRST TIME IN THE REAL WORLD There’s a good chance you’re a university student, and so, I address this to you. You are bad at everything you do, and university does not make you any better. How do I know this? I pretend to be an engineer for a living. I have finished fourth year chemical engineering, and I have a job. I have not finished my studies, but I have a job, a real job, in the desert, where I’m paid in more than monopoly money. University, huh... elite and glorious tertiary education. YOU, university student are the 1%, you have done well to pass all these tests. YOU are doing okay, for now. When you get a job, you will continue to be the 1%. But you will not be elite and glorious, you will be bad. You will be really bad. You will not make money for your company for at least 2 years.

Your company knows this, and they are taking a huge gamble on you. This is because university prepares you for sitting exams and memorising things. For the real world, university means nothing. You will have heard the phrase ‘Ahh yeah, I remember uni, you know you literally only use [insert number between 5 and 20] percent of what ya learn, right?’ They aren’t fucking around. People, real people, who do real jobs hate university students for this reason. We act like we are the 1% we have been up until now. We expect to be treated like we have been training for the length of our degree just for this job, therefore we will be good at it, or pick it up super quickly. But no, you won’t. Let’s do some math. University, 3 to 5 years (I’m not talking about medicine, and law kids don’t get jobs anyway). But, 3 to 5 years, which gives you what? It gives you an incredible insight into

the language your field of study uses, and an understanding of the scale of what you will one day do. You’re expecting to be as good as someone (with or without a degree) who has been doing it for 10 years. You are 5 to 7 years wrong. Your degree is not going to get you anywhere, it’s a ticket to a ride. It’s a ticket to a ride called the Mad Mouse, which tells you the name of the thing, the time, and the money. NOTHING ELSE. Your ticket/degree won’t let you know anything about the twists and turns, the pain in the ass you’ll have at the end, and the number of people who have died doing the same thing as you. So, how long does it take to truck a printer from Adelaide to Brisbane? I didn’t know, university didn’t teach me, and neither should it. What will teach you these things are: shutting the fuck up and listening, not telling people you went to university; and

calling someone who does know how long it takes to truck a printer from Adelaide to Brisbane, being super polite to them, and thanking them for their help. Sounds simple? Now you know how long it takes to get a printer to your office, thank me later. Engineers, pay special attention here. Arts students, try to overanalyse this bit beyond the detail that the author has even thought about. LEARN TO CHANGE A FLAT TYRE. You are an engineer, all mighty academic genius, Sheldon Cooper grade special boy/girl. You get a flat tyre. You are not that little dipshit who spent $50,000 on a degree which got you stranded 150km from anything. Learn to be a functional human.

newtons and celsius. You’re probably really good at it, so am I, I have a degree. But in real life you are a slave to stupid imperial units; feet, barrels, footpoundslugs and fahrenheit. I just couldn’t fathom how archaic the real world is in terms of measurements. For all you imperial unit etymology geeks out there. (Seriously google “Fathom etymology”). You will be excited for the day that you use any content from your degree, you own it, and you will impress your co-workers. But that’s [inset number between 5 and 20] percent of what you do, and you will be bad for the rest of it. Learn to live with it, and scramble all your mental faculties to keep up.

In the desert, you need to know how to look after the car/truck/ute/earth From my experiences as a fly-in fly- destroyer that you drive. You need to out engineer, it’s the little things in be more than an engineer, you need life which you need to be good at. We to be an employee, and university all learn about metric units; meters, does not teach you that. Being an litres, watts, joules, pascal seconds, employee is the hardest thing you

can do, and a degree is no substitute for that. A 3 to 5 year degree cannot give you 10 years of experience in the hundreds of different jobs you may one day apply for, and you need to know this. University can teach you how to learn, but if you’re not careful, it might also just teach you how to pass exams. University is nothing more than your driver’s licence. It lets you do a thing. When you leave uni, you are that scary little P plater who is driving for the first time. You are not good at driving regardless of what you (or your mother) think. Proportionally, P platers die more than anyone other road user. YOU are the P plater of the work force. Be careful, and be observant.

Math is good for you. Math gets you laid.

MY FIRST TIME... HAVING SEX WORDS BY: ANNIE POSITION ART WORK BY: NATALIE CARFOR A

Knocking boots. Smooshing booties. Doing the dirty. Taken literally, they could all pertain to either playing footy, or cleaning the kitchen. However, they all mean one thing: having sweet, sweet sex. Our ancestors and those before them have been “smooshing booties” since the start of humankind. Not only is it integral to the survival of our species, but it’s also hella fun to do. Sadly, this was not originally the case. My first time “knocking boots” was when I was eighteen years and five months old, and living in a dorm. My knowledge about sex at that age derived from both the sealed section of Cosmopolitan, and SBS television program, Queer as Folk. So what I knew about sex ranged from including a cheeky feather duster in the bedroom, to elaborate threesomes in nightclub cubicles. Suffice to say, my first time lacked both. Adam was definitely not the feather duster kind of guy. We met at a traffic

crossing near our dorms and were both slightly inebriated. He’d “lost” his keys, so I took him back to mine. When we entered my room, I excused myself to go to the ladies. When I returned, he was inserting his USB into my beloved Dell laptop. That should’ve been warning sign #1.

which led to things moving faster than expected. Next, he removed my flimsy singlet.

He played The Beatles’ ‘I Want To Hold Your Hand,’ which was pleasant enough. Conversation later turned to what we were studying, and he proceeded to tell me that he was majoring in Classical Music. He wanted to be a famous pianist one day. Adam removed his jumper to proudly reveal the T-shirt he had underneath. It read, “You can’t Handel me”. That should’ve been warning sign #2.

It was clear neither of us had “done the dirty” before. At this stage we were both in our underwear and making out horizontally. His hands were very unfocused and wandering everywhere. I think I recall his right index finger digging into my left ear? It was utterly bizarre. That should’ve been warning sign #5.

A lull in conversation led to some messy making out. I say “messy”, because Adam was what you’d call a licker. He would move from kissing my mouth, to slobbering all over my neck, forehead and nose. That should’ve been warning sign #3. The sight of his smug shirt was making me want to vomit, so I removed it,

The Beatles’ ‘“Help!’” was now playing and the timing of the song could not be more apt. That should’ve been warning sign #4.

We removed our remaining clothing. Adam’s mouth was now moving to my downstairs parts. But not where I’d expect it to land. For a solid fifteen minutes, his mouth was just fixated on my butt region, kissing and licking it. I was in no way turned on. I kept trying to turn around so his mouth would instead be on my babymaker, but no dice. I imagined he was also taking sex pointers from SBS’ Queer as Folk. That should’ve been warning sign #6

When he was done getting into second base with my bottom, Adam came up for air and asked whether I had a condom. I reached for my O’Week University paper bag on my bedside that included a couple of ChupaChups lollipops, a mini torchlight, and, finally, a condom. In hindsight, a majority of the items the University Union provided were of a phallic nature. The wearing of said condom took roughly ten minutes of tugging and squeezing. That should’ve been the final warning sign. Even though it was the dead of winter, Adam was sweating profusely. As he was on top of me, rubbing up against my body, his grotesque sweat droplets of sweat would fall on my face. We finally found a momentum after he discovered where to place his chubby. Initially, it felt like a painful blister popping. But subsequently, it was just a series of soft thumps against my privates, as if he was playfully angry at it. After what felt like an eternity (but was actually twenty seconds), Adam rolled off me and curled up into a ball facing

the wall. I was surprised the entire moment had passed so fast. I honestly expected a Part Two. Or perhaps this was simply the intermission. It wasn’t. I tapped Adam on the shoulder to see if he was alive. The Beatles’ ‘“Hello, Goodbye’” was now playing fromon my Dell. He wasn’t moving. After multiple taps, he finally turned around, got up, and got changed. He hurriedly said that he had a good time and exited stage left. I may have lost my v-card that night, but I also gained a USB filled with killer Beatles’ tracks and a startling realisation that I was not into butt lick play.

Annie Position is trying to f igure out how to sneak into Womadelaide. Anyone got some wirecutters and/or a keen sense of adventure? Read more at collageadelaide.wordpress.com/

NOT SO LAME-WAY WORDS BY: NATALIE CARFOR A PHOTOGR APHY BY: NICK GENCARELLI

20 THOUGHTS ON LANEWAY 2016

1. First and foremost, I am so glad that this year the forecast is a mild 30 degrees compared to the last few years of hell.

6. Nielson has now climbed on board the roof of a boat docked nearby and is either stuck or really enjoying the fine views of the Port River.

2. Banoffee looks like a mystical flamingo wearing

a straightjacket, but… she is so cool. I love it.

3. The auto toilets are playing the smooth jazz stylings of Burt Bacharach.

People are voluntarily paying $10 for glitter and gems to be applied to their faces, I feel as if this could be some sort of social experiment.

5. Silicon’s Kody Nielson is no longer on the stage, he is instead kissing a policeman’s gun and grinding all up in his business.

There is a Neon Party in Vitalstatistix that is like stepping onto the set of The Mighty Boosh. Currently, I am making an idol to offer to the flamboyantly dressed DJ gods.

Who brings an inflatable “woman” to a music festival!?

Port Adelaide is a really lovely venue for Laneway, except the bark ain’t foolin’ no one. The dusty dirt below is still penetrating my lungs.

10. All burgers should be mac and cheese burgers.

11. The lead singer of The Internet is wearing a The Internet t-shirt. 12. Am I becoming a senior citizen at the tender age of 22? It really seems like it. I keep internally complaining about the rowdy youth and the crowds. 13. I am fascinated by how many guys are wearing matching tops and bottoms. 14. Did you know that Violent Soho supporters are a real live cult? I am afraid for my life right now. 15. Grimes is definitely a teenage vampire and not a 27 year old woman.

16. BUT, her synchronised dancing gals

yielding ribbon batons and laser pointers are really something. I am all about this.

17. To continue my life as an elderly woman, Laneway just has too many bros in attendance since the end of BDO and Soundwave. I am not pleased. I am not a fan of bros. 18. This is a secret: I have loved Beach House for like five years and I have seen them live multiple times but I STILL can’t tell any of their songs apart except for my two faves. 19. My legs have died a death. 20. PURITY RING’S LIGHTS AND DRUMS! THE DRUMS AND THE LIGHTS!!! I AM OBSESSED!! 21. FYI, this is unrelated, but Yiros House chips are the best chips in the whole world and I want to be buried underneath a mountain of them.

Natalie spends most of her time thinking about what she’s going to eat next.

THE MAN WHO ROSE FROM EARTH WORDS BY: HIL ARY D’ANGELO

Never before had I seen such tight pants lend themselves to such a hypnotic presence. Melodic tones absorbed me in a world of whimsical mazes filled with crystal balls and blonde mullets that were improbably tasteful. I may have been only five years old, but something about the Goblin King’s enigmatic charm guaranteed that Labyrinth would be a film I watched religiously over and over for years to come. It was my first night with David Bowie, and soon enough, I was completely enthralled. From then on, Friday nights as I grew up were nothing less than a musical marvel. As my parents made their way through record after record, I discovered that the man I was mesmerised by was so much more than just the black cape and sparkly eyeshadow he sported. I was opened up to a world of symphonies, uniquely beautiful; exposed to what I would later come to recognise as lyrical mastery. Magic Dance would perhaps always be my favourite, but it was already clear to me that David Bowie was

at least as versatile as his pants were tight. As I matured my appreciation of Bowie grew. I jumped at the opportunity to attend the David Bowie Is exhibition in Melbourne partway through 2015. Leaving the term that follows the word ‘is’ open for personal assessment, the title itself encapsulates the man’s very essence; he was an unbounded figure conforming to no particular type or form. The opening line of the exhibition, plastered on the first wall in view upon entering, reinforced this notion. Bowie told us that ‘All art is unstable. It’s meaning is not necessarily that implied by the author. There is no authoritative voice. There are only multiple readings’. Crucially, his art could be interpreted in whichever way it needed to be. It was poignant, unsettling, challenging… Although I had been raised on his music and memorable portrayal of the Goblin King, prior to the exhibition I was unaware of the true extent of his audacity; his individuality; his eccentricity. He was

the start of a diverse culture within music and identity exploration, both of which would undoubtedly look very different were it not for him. It was the eve of my 20th birthday when the world lost the wonder that was David Bowie. Perhaps I missed out on the peak of his influence as I was born in the 90’s. But knowing that my childhood began with my first exposure to his soul, and ended with his departure, is in itself cathartic. There is no doubt that his presence will forever precede and inform the scene of pop culture as it stands enriched by his soaring influence. While we can never truly relive our first experiences with Bowie, there’s always room to revisit memories and appreciate his work whenever we wish. So, to the starman with eyes that didn’t match: I think I speak for everyone when I say I feel privileged that you existed in my lifetime.

Thanks to David Bowie, Hilary’s spaceship knows which way to go.

KANGAROOS WORDS BY MAX WURM

Sometimes, in my spare time I wander through the back streets to watch the kangaroos on the bitumen. Not quiet animals at all, they roar―more like lions― though only a third as brave. We flock to them, us wise old birds and cackle like the codgers we became since the same troublesome and unfortunate task was placed upon our own heads. Tripping on wheels, we were and spilling gears upon the mud; drowning in the puddle of cackles. Clumsy kangaroos, first timers to the art; some with two left feet, some with two right arms. I never have to worry now― to experience something as traumatic. Reflecting back, it would be better if I’d just got an Automatic.

FIRST SLEEP WORDS BY: DEANNA VARKANIS PHOTOGR APHY BY: TESS MILFORD-BEHN

The first time we slept together it was April, the month of firstday foolishness and allegorical blooming, betwixt and between the ghosts of St Mark’s Eve. It was a Tuesday, and as we lay entwined our limbs felt heavy, as though an amalgamation of all the seasons had come to sleep in even the slightest creases of our skin: the crooks of our elbows, the curls of our toes, and even the whetted curve of his grin. Sometime between the transient interchange of speech – “what I love most about rivers is you can’t step in the same river twice.” I watched the moon rise over the thoracic valley of his chest, my hands lending themselves to the limnology of what makes up the rest: cavicles and creeks, a four-week growth of untamed beard, a rib-cage canyon, and the hydrological cycle of his soliloquies as they pass through his lips. The first time we slept together our shoulders shed tales of saltwater seas. We had just come back from the beach, and as the sunset constellations spanned the sheets, we traced the fault lines on our palms and wondered where we’d one day be – “as long as I am always I, and you are always you, there will always be a we.” The first time we slept together, all we did was sleep.

FOOD NOT A BURGER REVIEW | BURGER THEORY REVIEWED BY: JENNY NGUYEN 5/5 | Joining Penang Hawker’s Corner, Taste Baguette and Grassroots, Burger Theory is the latest addition to Hub Central’s evolving food court. What makes this BT site different from its Union Street store and Pearl Truck is the new menu designed especially for the student demographic. ‘The menu is going to be a bit different”,’ says Dan Mendelson, Burger Theory’s co-owner and food scientist, ‘both with regard to the burgers on offer and other menu items.’ You can expect to see on the menu the BT beef burger staple affectionately known as #1 and #2. There will be

the omission of grilled chicken burgers and the vegetarian burger, Sloppy Jose. However, in place are fried chicken burgers and loaded fries will be slathered in new sauces. While the sauces are currently nameless, a “smoky barbecue mayo” and a “spicy sauce” will both definitely be on the Hub Central menu. As millennials become more conscious about food miles, taste and hip pockets, Burger Theory answers these calls with its locally sourced ingredients, products made from scratch as well as being well priced. Opens 22 February.

BOOK THE CHOICE | NICHOL AS SPARKS REVIEWED BY: CIANA CHIN 4.5/5 | The book that I read and loved is The Choice by Nicholas Sparks.

one who blew Gabby a cruel stroke in life when it was the fault of no one.

What I fancied about the novel is how the author managed to tug at my heart by introducing the plot twist in the middle of the book. Initially I thought that the main character, Travis, was in the middle of a trial separation with his wife, Gabby, and the story was about an attempted reconciliation.

Woven into the plot are themes of understanding and respect. The friendships around him threatened to crumble as he struggled to come to terms with the prospect of him being a single father of two. In addition, he felt that his friends are unable to understand the situation that he was in.

But I was proven wrong.

This is one of the best Nicholas Sparks romance novels I’ve read. It intertwines relationship struggles with love, and reminds the reader that good things will happen through persistence. This is definitely a recommended read for any romance novel fans.

It wasn’t a trial separation, it was something gutwrenching. With the news of Gabby’s fight between life and death, Travis’s belief in love and friendship began to waver. I felt a strong sense of guilt on his part, he was the

FILM

THE DEVIL AT YOUR HEELS | ROBERT FORTIER REVIEWED BY: ROB L AWRY 4/5 | At the risk of breaking three taboos so early in the year, I am about to recommend firstly, a documentary that’s secondly, produced in the 70s and is thirdly, a foreign film (from Canada). I’m sorry I can’t offer you something more mainstream but then I’d rather offer you something that’s obscure and brilliant over something you can Google a review for. So let’s get into The Devil at Your Heels. Our subject is Ken Carter, the self-proclaimed greatest stuntman in the world. He’s a simple man, the kind who dreams of jumping a mile-wide shipping canal in a custom built rocket car. It’s a stunt will struggle through five years of failed test launches, financial back-outs and a rival stunt man named Kenny Powers wanting to

take the glory for himself - but Ken Carter faces all of these with boundless optimism. Documentaries are often overlooked as entertainment, and yet the best ones contain some of the most remarkable characters ever put on film. Such is Ken Carter. This is a character who refuses to let circumstance triumph over his wildest dreams, and his journey is every bit as hilarious as it is oddly inspiring. Remember, “if you don’t think in terms of win, you do not win.” Right on. The Devil at Your Heels can be viewed for free on YouTube, courtesy of the National Film Board of Canada.

MUSIC DIMINISHED COMPOSITION | WILLAMET TE REVIEWED BY: ANDREW L ANG 4.5/5 | Diminished Composition, the new record from ambient trio Willamette, is the band’s first record in four years, and only their third overall. Willamette’s combination of tape loops and string instruments have given a minimalist and nostalgic tone to their work. A major difference between this group and their peers, however, is the comparatively short length of their songs - few last more than four or five minutes. The result of this is that their music tends to stay in one place, with only occasional evolutions. By comparison, the last William Basinski record was a single uninterrupted track lasting roughly forty minutes. Diminished Composition starts underwhelmingly with ‘Inland Empire’, a song that seems out of place as an opener. It never seems to grab the listener, and would work better as a song to transition between two others. The following track,

‘At Length And Dead Horse’, is where the record begins to shine. With its airy, distant vocals and melancholic string section, all blanketed by hypnotic drones, it encapsulates what makes Willamette so captivating. From here the album moves between a couple of different styles, some are closer to collections of found sounds, whereas others are similar to the band’s earlier classical style. This constant switching mostly works well, though it does take a couple of replays to fully appreciate how the tracks fit together. Diminished Composition represents another triumph for Willamette. While not quite as strong a record as Always in Postscript, it is still a stellar record that stands strong amongst their catalogue. Let’s hope for a little less than four years until the next one.

RANT SPACE THE FACEBOOK RACIST ‘Why don't the gulf Arab nations take Syrian refugees?’ ‘We owe them nothing!’ ‘Their nations won't tolerate even half the crap they pull on us.’ ‘These refugees arrived illegally, expect the world handed to them and destroy what they're given, when they don't like a decision.’ ‘They need a teaspoon of concrete.’ ‘Top kek lefties.’ *shares article written by Andrew Bolt and calls it unbiased plain daylight clear facts* Oh my god will you not just fuck off you absolute fuckin dickhead.

‘illegal’ because it doesn’t take much to tell that you have no clue a person cannot be ‘illegal’ and that arrival to Australia by boat does not break Australian law. Like you know shit about laws and legalities and the Human Rights Convention. ‘Fuckin lefties eyyyy’. You do not make me feel inferior because I am not from here, and for looking for a life with basic security and human rights. You do not make me feel like a ‘disgrace to the human race’, because in 50 years time, history will only remember me as the designer, artist, inventor and goddamn fuckin awesome human being that I am.

As I sit here ranting about your ignorance, I do not feel bad for being a refugee. You don’t make me feel

I used to try to make it clear to people like you that we are the same. We have the same dreams. We want

to study, work, buy a home and have a family. We want to be in love and travel the world. We want to live in a safe country where our human rights are respected and we all live in dignity. But now I give up. We are absolutely not the same. You’re an asshole and I’m a decent fuckin human being. You wouldn’t give me refuge, a home, a visa, a job or a dime, but I’d share all I have with you when you are in need, despite the fact you’re an absolute fuckin dickhead. You’re also a men’s rights activist so fuck you further. May Allah inspire you to abandon your top kek dickheadism, and bless me with the wisdom to never read the Overheard comments section.

WHO SAID IT DJ KHALED OR JESUS? A. ‘I remember when I ain’t have a jacuzzi.’ B. ‘Starfruit is one of my favourite fruits.’ C. ‘Ain’t nothin’ like bamboo.’ D. ‘When you stop making excuses and you work hard and you go hard you will be very successful.’ E. ‘I told y’all this before, when you have a swimming pool do not use chlorine. Use salt water.’ See answers below.

DJ Khaled loves fruit, he names it as one of his keys to success. B. Answer: DJ Khaled.

DJ Khaled wants you to be successful at university this year. He knows you can do it. Stop making excuses, aim for D. Answer: DJ Khaled.

Jesus would get annoyed when he would attend pool parties at his disciples’ homes and they would chlorinate their pools. When they use chlorine, he can’t perform his favourite party trick, walking on water. He was known to often remind his disciples to use salt water in their pools so that he could impress his friends. E. Answer: Jesus.

Jesus first visited the Bethlehem Botanic Gardens as a child, and loved visiting as often as he could as an adult. His favourite area was the bamboo gardens, he loved bamboo.

After Jesus’ apprenticeship with Joseph, he managed to save enough money to buy a jacuzzi. He loved nothing more than spending a sunny Bethlehem afternoon chillin’ in his jacuzzi with his disciples.

4 HDs. He expects nothing less of you.

C. Answer: Jesus.

A. Answer: Jesus.

MR STABLES AND MISS L’S CORRESPONDENCES Mr Stables and Miss L had a marvellous summer, being able to take break from the otherwise seemingly ceaseless grind of study. We would like to make it clear that only some of the correspondence that we receive can be answered per issue as, unfortunately, we have neither the time nor the space to answer all queries. We would also like to point out that we have gone for a new format where we have omitted the question asked, only supplying the reader with the inquirer’s nom de plume and our reply for it is up to the curious reader to discover themselves what they think the question to be. ON ADEQUACY DISGRUNTLED STUDENT – With regards to your query as to why ‘old mate Bebz’ gets paid as much as he does, I would direct you to research the average salary of a CEO of a company that earns $900+ million in revenue. PRUDENCE –Whether you’re eligible to transfer to Law will be determined whether or not you went to private school. And of course I mean social eligibility, which is really all that matters. CHARLIE BALES –Don’t worry Charlie, they annoy the hell out of everyone. It’s best to not make eye contact and walk with a purpose. Being socialist is not the only

alternative thing about them, as they have all alternative entrances covered also.

going to be worse than the prequels. Jean-Luc, I find your lack of faith disturbing.

DONALD –Hi Donald, I also don’t quite understand why there’s this obsession with ducks in the Uni community and finding the origin has proven to be a hard nut to quack –best just go along with it.

KEEPING UP WITH THE TIMES

ADELAIDE UNI FRESHMAN – Before I answer your query, I would like to point out that we aren’t in an American College, so please, next time use the term ‘first year’ (unless of course you are an exchange student). Nothing is worse than a person who uses Americanisms like ‘finals’ (when referring to exams) at an Australian institution. British slang is acceptable. And to answer your question –No, absolutely not. ELOISE –On Dit rhymes with ennui, which I have at the moment. ON INADEQUACY CAVE DWELLER –Yes, I can confirm that everyone gets incredibly self-conscious about making noise in the reading room. Barring Smith, obviously, because he’s an inconsiderate Muppet. JEAN-LUC –Jean-Luc has penned us a whole paragraph as to why he thinks the new Star Wars Trilogy is

SERENA – Serena, the best way for you to ‘keep up with the local goss’ is to join Overheard at Adelaide on Facebook. S. STACY –Yes Stacy, the Adelaide Uni community’s obsession with memes is by all memes a healthy one. For the best dank memes, I recommend you see directly above. TYRONE –With regards to your query as to whether colour makes a difference to your chances of being admitted to the professional workforce, I would say of course! It’s 2016, not 1970. Personally, I would definitely not go black. Stick to greys and dark navy suits; leave the black suits for the managerial positions and definitely do not go to your first interview in a bright yellow suit with funky highlights. JEFF –Jeff, don’t worry about it, about 99% of students have slept during a lecture. This is all about to change soon though; online lectures will almost guarantee that you never fall asleep and miss critical information during a lecture again.

DODGY CRAFTS WITH MADDY AND EM

MY FIRST (POMPOM) CHILD

WORDS BY: EMILY HEART MADDY SEXTON ART WORK BY: EMILY HEART

A pompom is the core of all dodgy craft. They are the perfect things to make when you are too lazy to actually make anything good. They have a million uses and they are the crowd pleaser of all crafts, followed closely by their good friend, the tassel. This pompom garland will be great to jazz up your dodgy new share house. To make a pompom garland, you need three things (that you should already have): Wool (a failed scarf you thought of knitting last year) Thick cardboard (Fruity Lexia box) Sharp scissors (preferably with a pointed nose) 1. Cut two identical donuts from your cardboard. Keep in mind that the size of your donut will be roughly the size of your pompom. Maddy did not know this and once made a pompom the size and weight of a small planet that now hangs above her bed as a haunting reminder of all her crafting mistakes. 2. Cut a really long strand of wool. Put the two donuts together and tie one end of the really long strand around BOTH of the donuts, keeping the knot in the donut hole. 3. Start to wrap the donut in wool, threading it through the hole. You want to wrap it pretty tightly so that the end product is nice and fluffy.

Keep wrapping until there is no donut hole left, or until you have no wool (you can always tie more on), or until you get bored.

cardboard and a child is born. Give it a haircut and a fluff up so that itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s nice and evenly round.

4. This is the only semi-tricky step, so listen up. Separate the wool a bit so you can see the donut again and then separate the two pieces of cardboard slightly. Poke your scissors in there and use the donut to guide your scissors as you cut around the edge of the circle.

6. Make a bunch more pompoms. Make some different colours or sizes if you like. If you are clever, you can even try experimenting with multiple colours in the same pompom. If not, befriend smart people to help and offer wine or shitty banter as reward. If that doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t work, drink wine anyway.

5. Keep your cardboard in place and cut a new piece of wool. Pull the cardboard apart a little and tie this new piece of wool between the cardboard pieces, around the middle of your baby pompom. Remove

7. When you are happy with your number of pompoms, cut another long strand of wool and tie the pompoms on to create your garland. String this garland up as an offering to the omnipotent Bebbington.

If you give up after making two pompoms, you can also use a glue gun or needle and thread to attach them to: Beanies Presents Your dog An apology (apomogy.com) Anything. Be enthusiastic. Fish for compliments! If you are hung over or need to make a pompom in the wild, there is also an extra dodgy method using your hand instead of cardboard. Google it.