FARRAGO
Acknowledgement of Country
by Oskar Martin
Oskar Martin is a Bundjalung and Kamilaroi student at the University of Melbourne. He is the current Indigenous Students’ Representative on UMSU Students’ Council.
With 2024 coming close to ending, it is important to acknowledge and recognise what this year has brought us as Indigenous people.
2024 has seen repeated attacks on our people. Only recently in the Northern Territory election, the Country Liberal Party won by a landslide, running on a campaign to clean up and fix the supposed issue of youth crime. The Liberals in the Northern Territory have now proposed new draconian laws that would see a crackdown on blackfellas in the Northern Territory, similar to the crackdown the Northern Territory Intervention brought in 2007.
The Liberals are seeking to lower the age of criminal responsibility to 10 years, reintroduce truancy officers to punish our families, introducing harsher bail laws, and increase the power of the police to surveil, intimidate, beat up and kill our people and children. This comes at a time when law and order campaigns in the Northern Territory, Queensland, Western Australia and across the country have ramped up, with governments and right wing groupings calling our children criminals, calling for our children as young as 10 to be locked up.
And what have the so called progressive Labor governments have done in response to this? They have and continue to fuel the fire that burns the hopes and dreams of our people and children. A month ago the Victorian Labor government abandoned its promise to lift the age of criminal responsibility to 14. Alongside this, they increased bail restrictions to lock up more of our children and even brought in electronic monitoring. Despite Labor’s proclaimed progressiveness on Aboriginal rights and self-determination, their actions show who they are: racist enemies of Aboriginal people.
The situation for our people is bleak—what has happened in Victoria and in the Northern Territory are only a few examples illustrating the horrible reality we live under Australian capitalism.
But yet it would be remiss to not acknowledge and recognise the resistance and hope we have seen in the past 10 months: resistance and hope in the mass Palestine movement across the country. As we have seen for the past 10 months, Israel has committed a mass genocide of Palestinians and continues its onslaught in the Gaza Strip and in the West Bank. However, ordinary people have not sat on the sidelines watching this unfold. In our hundreds of thousands we have protested against the genocide, showing our solidarity with Palestinians, criticising and shaming our country’s and government’s complicity in the ongoing genocide.
As an Aboriginal man, the solidarity between our people and Palestinians has been highlighted week after week, not only in our shared oppression, but in our shared resistance. We have not allowed our oppressors to trample over our lives with no fight back; we instead stood up and fought in hope and determination, believing that we can live in a better world. And people of various backgrounds have taken up this solidarity and resistance. Indigenous and non-Indigenous people have said enough is enough—no more genocide and destruction; we fight for a world where Palestinians are not killed with impunity and Aboriginal children are not locked up and hunted down by police.
So I say to everyone reading this, let us acknowledge the oppressive rule the capitalist system inflicts upon us. But let us acknowledge the resistance for the past 10 months that opens the door to a better world for all Indigenous people, and for all people on this world.
The Media Department pays respects to the Traditional Owners of the lands on which Farrago is published. We acknowledge that sovereignty has never been ceded. Always was and always will be Aboriginal land.
Contributors
Editorial
General Secretary
Enzhe (Kevin) Li
GSA President
Ethan Chou
Clubs and Societies
Azalea Rohaizam and Hanny
Teja
UMSU Welfare
Divyanshi Sati and Joshua Stagg
(UMSU10001) Introduction to Student Politics
Mathilda Stewart
UMSU passes motion calling for a ceasefire in Gaza following legal controversy
Mathilda Stewart
Federal government’s proposed enrolment cap set to slash international student intake at University of Melbourne
Ibrahim Muan Abdulla
2024 UMSU Election
Results: Another Year, Another Community Sweep
Mathilda Stewart & Joel Duggan
30CM
Sophie He & Jessica Fanwong
The Return of Pan
Pluto Cotter moment of weakness stolenchampagne pompeii stolenchampagne
Oh, baby, with your pretty face–
Stephen Zavitsanos
This is not a love poem
NImrada SIlva
CONTENTS
Rigours
NImrada SIlva
SCENT MEMORY
Isaac Thatcher
When Is My Birthday?
Aaron Agostini
Pulse of Time
Charlotte Ang
I’m In Love With 1,6-Dichloro-1,6-dideoxy- -D-fructofu-ranosyl-4-chloro-4-deoxy-α-galactopyranoside
Aaron Agostini
Out at sea
E.U. Wood
Umbilical Noose
Astara Ball
lorde knows: love and resistance are synonyms
Anni Fender
Woven from the streams of Thibaw
Nay Chi Nway
If I had to coin a word
Michelle Yu
NON - FICTION
Who is Controlling Women’s Birth Control?
Shuangshuang Xie
Row Zero
Jesse Allen
Greetings From Utropiia
Fergus Sinnott
You’ve Found Heaven, Now What?
Jayden Alexander
Bridging The Distance: A Journey Back to Perth
Megan Nicole Yin
Retiring the Olympic Dream
Elizabeth Browne
We Are Not Teaching Empathy
Chiaki Chng
The Bard, Brunswick, and the Bitter Joys of Australian Coffee
Claire Le Blond
Omnis-phóbos (or) the fear of all: Mycophobia, the fear of fungi and mushrooms
Wildes Lawler
The “Chasing That Feeling” Diaries: Life is Not a Fairy Tale
Lani Jaye
Odds & Ends
Ashlea Banon
All Aboard
Rashdan Mahmood
Featured photography
Shun Fukui
Stephen Zavitsanos
Lara Prust
Laiken Jackson
Farratography exhibition
Stephen Zavitsanos & Weiying (Irene) Lu
Editor’s Choice Awards
People’s Choice Awards
Fodder Artist Interviews
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Gunjan Ahluwalia
Jessica Fanwong
Joel Duggan
Kien-Ling Liem
COVER
Adam Dinh-Vu
MANAGERS
Angela Nacor
Disha Mehta
Emily Hope
Harrison George
Hayley Yeow
Lauren Williams
Nathan Pham
Phoebe Sava
Ruby Weir-Alarcon
Stephen Zavitsanos
Weiying Lu
CREATIVE
SUBEDITORS
Aditi Acharla
Ailene Catherine Susanto
Amelie Staff
Bronte Lemaire
Charlotte (Charli) Davies
Cushla (Cush) Scanlan
Danielle Holden
Emily Ta
Fantine Banulski
Felicity Smith
Fergus Sinnott
Hallie Vermeend
Isaac Thatcher
Jo O’Connell
Kartiya Ilardo
Kaz Bueman
Mary Hampton
Matthew (Matt) Chan
Olivia Brewer
Sophie He
Veronica Kwong
Wei Si (Erica) Liu
Yu Zhong
COLUMNISTS
Ashlea Banon
Claire Le Blond (MUSC)
Lani Jaye
Olivia Camillin
Rashdan Mahmood
Sabine Pentecost
Wildes Lawler
CONTRIBUTORS
CONTRIBUTORS
Aaron Agostini
Annabell Fender
Astara Ball
Charlotte Ang
David Surace
E.U.Wood
Isaac Thatcher
Jack Sam
Jessica Fanwong
Laiken Jackson
Lara Prust
Megan Nicole Yin
Michelle Yu
Nay Chi Nway
Nicholas Short
NImrada SIlva
Owini Wijayasekara
Pluto Cotter
Shuanshuang Xie
Shun Fukui
Sophie He
Stephen Zavitsanos
stolenchampagne
ILLUSTRATORS
Agustin Coscolluela
Amber Liang
April Park
Chelsea Pentland
Emma Bui
Felicity Yiran Smith
Georgia Bartholomeusz
Grace Hamilton
Harriet Chard
Indigo Jessell
Jennifer Nguyen
Lauren Luchs
Lee Chan
Leilani Leon
Letian (Lydia) Tian
Maleea
Mel
Ngochan Lam
Tina Tao
Thomas Weir-Alarcon (Cowry) Yanche Wang
NON - FICTION SUBEDITORS
Ailene Catherine Susanto
Amelie Staff
Aroma Imran
Asimenia Pestrivas
Audrey Goodman
Bella Farrelly
Chamathka Rajapakse
Chelsea Browning
Emily Macfarlane
Emma Berg Kaldbekken
Isaac Thatcher
Isobel Connor-Smithyman
Janice Hui
Layla Zain
Lilly Sokolowski
Maddie Barron
Madeline Barrett
Mary Hampton
Momoka Honda
Neera Kadkol
Rebecca Ramos (Becca)
Samson Cheung
Sheriline Lay
Srihari Mohan (Harry)
Stella Mcdonald
NON - FICTION STAFF WRITERS
Ayva Jones
Chiaki Chng
Elizabeth Browne
Elizabeth Pham
Fergus Sinnott
Jayden Seah
Jesse Allen
Ledya Khamou
Maria Quartel
Rashdan Mahmood
Srihari Mohan (Harry)
Zoe Quinn
PHOTOGRAPHY
Alain Nguyen
Chatarina Hanny Angelita
Teja
Nirmalsinh Bihola
Piper Jones-Evans
Yurong Xu
REPORTERS
Alan Nguyen
Anastasia Scarpaci
Annie Karkaloutsos
Arjun Singh
Ayva Jones
Billie Davern
Buena Araral
Chelsea Browning
Ravin Desai
Romany Claringbull
Sam Irvine
Sana Gulistani
Finley Monaghan-Mc Grath
Hanane Seid
Ibrahim Muan Abdulla
Mathilda Stewart
Meagan Hansen
Mia Jenkins
Pryce Starkey
RADIO FODDER PRODUCERS
Anushka Mankodi
Dom Lepore
Isolde Kieni-Judd
Jack Loftus
Tom Weir-Alarcon
SATIRE
Aaron Agostini
Alexia Shaw
Eden Cater
Jasmine Bills
Jonathan Chong
Lucinda (Lucy) Grant
Oscar Marks
SOCIAL MEDIA
Duy Dang
King Shi
Larissa Brand
Thanh Thanh An Quach
Alan Nguyen
VIDEOGRAPHY
Christina Arthur
Deidre Chloe
Nirmalsinh Bihola
EDITORIAL
Jessica:
One word to sum up this edition is: flash. Everything in this edition pretty much came together within 12 hours and with writers dropping out because it is that time of the year for the first time we are short of pieces instead of having too many. This edition was compiled at the same time as the Below Earth Anthology and the division of attention meant double the labour and workload. So I’m really proud that we were able to pull 2 zines together understaffed and under resourced as we are — and I even finally managed to contribute to Farrago again — designing 2 pieces and co-writing one wacky very random flash fiction. Enjoy edition 5!
Kien-Ling:
Caught in the snares of midsem assignments and chaos, the delay of Edition 5 is only tradition for us four Farrago editors at this point. It’s a headache getting it together, but seeing it in print for the first time will always be the highlight of my month, and I’ll miss that feeling when my term ends. There’s much to say about what we’ve accomplished since Edition 4: a very successful Farratography exhibition, our 72-hour Radiothon (never again), and a very heart-warming Radio Fodder screenprinting workshop. I say this every edition, but I’m continuously proud of our staff writers and columnists for defeating writer’s block every month (I’m sure you all dread my emails), and I’m always thankful for the love and effort all our contributors put into the magazine.
Joel:
We’re coming out of UMSU election season and, while things haven’t really changed that much, it is a symbol of the beginning of the end of our time as Farrago Editors. At time of writing this, we have a bit over two months. I’ll probably need to do some more reflecting on that later, but for now I am attending a Student Media Conference that myself and other editors from across Australia have spent like eight months organising and it is almost time to party, which must take priority.
Gunjan:
It’s hard to believe we’re almost at the finish line—5/6 editions done and only two months left. It’s definitely a mix of emotions. I’m excited about whatever’s coming next, but I also feel a bit of fear about losing a sense of belonging to this community that’s been such a big part of my life recently. I’m going to miss the late nights, the launch parties, and the unboxing of a new edition, hoping and praying the printer doesn’t mess up the spine (again).
A huge thank you to everyone involved! See you in the final edition.
This magazine is made from 100% recycled paper. Please recycle this magazine after use.
Farrago is the newspaper of the University of Melbourne Student Union (UMSU). Farrago is published by the General Secretary. The views expressed herein are not necessarily those of UMSU.
If you want to raise an issue with the union and with the university, please contact the President and General Secretary. president@union.unimelb.edu.au secretary@union.unimelb.edu.au
General Secretary Enzhe (Kevin) Li
Hey Unimelb, it’s been a while—or maybe not so long if you just picked up another copy of Farrago and is just flipping through to procrastinate or have something to read for lunch. Hopefully the semester has treated you better than it did me! Coming back from the last report, Not much has happened from the Uni side: … There are updates on a number of things, from special consideration changes (including the three day extension trials and AEAs) which we are heavily involved with in terms of advocacy, the new university canteen initiative which came as a result of the tireless advocacy of Welfare and International. Hopefully we will see more done on this front. There’s a huge amount of constitutional, regulation and policy changes taking place at UMSU. Far too much to summarise here, the last paper circulated to council gave a bit of coverage regarding this but feel free to attend future CRPWG sessions! If you are one such councillor or just an interested student, feel free to reach out to learn more and potentially partake. This callout seems particularly relevant given how many councillors, voting or OBs, and randoms on reddit seemed to “know” about things that supposedly did or did not happen and pontificate about governance and regulations without ever attending. Last but very much not least! Mid-autumn is here and the event is bigger than ever thanks to having a large number of groups, students clubs, and the Uni on side collaborating. Enjoy the mooncake, workshops, stalls, performances and the food!
GSA has been quite busy these past couple of weeks with carrying out our Annual Graduate Art Prize ceremony, Mid-Autumn festival festivities, Women in Tech Speaker Series and our other regular well-being events. We’ve also revamped our Policy & Advocacy webpage to reflect our ongoing projects and past campaigns, please go check it out!
Additionally, I’m excited to announce that GSA is hosting our inaugural Future Careers Expo this October! We’re bringing together industry partners from a wide range of fields, emphasizing faculty collaboration and an interdisciplinary approach. This is a fantastic opportunity for graduate students to connect with future colleagues, ask questions, and explore the possibilities that await you beyond your academic studies.
Clubs and Societies
Azalea Rohaizam and Hanny Teja
Hey legends!
The C&S department is in full swing during this AGM seasons, and we’ve made tremendous progress.
First up, the C&S department has implemented a new Club Affiliation Process that will make it easier for new clubs to get affiliated. We’re also at the final stages of developing the grievance procedure! And for our new club execs, we’ve got inductions planned in the next couple of weeks to prepare them for their new roles.
Lastly, the C&S Department has also planned Clubs Council on the 14th of October at 2 PM! If you are eligible and keen to join the C&S Committee, this is your chance to nominate yourself.
UMSU Welfare
by Divyanshi Sati and Joshua Stagg
UMSU Welfare remains active and thriving as we near the end of 2024. Union Mart is expanding, Welfare Brunches are aiming to serve more students, and we are advocating on the cost of living and harm reduction. Our team has prepared some of the following highlights since the last edition Farrago.
UNION MART GOES 5 DAYS AT PARKVILLE
As of week 7, Union Mart has officially opened on Tuesdays at the Parkville campus alongside our continued pop up at Southbank. This has been a goal the Welfare Office Bearers and Committee have been fighting for all of 2024. For now, we are only opening to 50 students at Parkville on Tuesdays due to stock shortage, but we will be pushing for 150 by the end of the semester.
VOLUNTEER NETWORK
The greatest strength of the UMSU Welfare Department is our volunteer network. We have now reached over 400 volunteers including roles such as Manager, General Attendant, Delivery Driver, Admin, Marketing, Newsletter and more. In 2024, we ran a large-scale volunteering training with over 50 new volunteers attending to learn about the Points System, Reserve Fund, Rostering etc.
We would like to take this chance to recognise the incredible work of Filia Cahyadi and Sonika Agarwal. They are instrumental to our department.
We will be continuing the tradition set in Semester One and hosting a large awards evening in week 12 to celebrate our volunteers.
(UMSU10001) Introduction to Student Politics
by Mathilda Stewart
‘Community’, ‘Stand Up!’, ‘Rebuild’? If I didn’t know better, I’d think these were the names of noisy corporatised Pentecostal megachurches, or maybe outpatient rehab programs. Alas, they’re but another tedious and soul-sucking extracurricular campus pursuit—student politics!!
With the 2024 UMSU Election having taken place in Week Seven of Semester 2 and the subsequent shifts in the stupol landscape, what better time to become acquainted with Unimelb’s resident political factions?
Key terms
Stupol (stew-pol) – The noisy and bizarre playground of maladjusted undergraduates and JD students, student politics comprises the activities, politics and culture of the representative bodies for Australian tertiary students. Many stupol hopefuls enter the fray with a commendable dedication and desire to make their peers’ lives better, and may even live out these principles, yet the uncomfortable truths of stupol can lead it to devolve into barrages of factional vitriol and abuse.
Headkicking aside, the sheer amount of unpaid labour involved in any serious stupol career is certainly reflective of the general level of privilege often necessitated for such a pursuit, as well as the character of student representation often found within campus bodies. For some who partake, student politics serves as a springboard for a career into parliamentary politics. Many student representatives, irrespective of faction, are already employed in some capacity as staffers to Federal and State MPs in the Labor Party (Australia’s centre-left party, affiliated with trade unions who constitute the party’s many subfactions), the Greens (Australia’s progressive party, to the left of Labor), and Liberal Party (Australia’s centre-right party), while untold numbers of their predecessors have gone on to lead successful parliamentary and party careers themselves.
Hack - An overly enthusiastic stupol participant, usually showing greater loyalty to their faction than any personal or political conviction.
Headkicking - A ticket’s headkicker is generally understood as the ‘whip’, tasked with enforcing discipline and ensuring attendance.
Faction - A group of students forming an ideological alliance, usually above the campus level. Within Labor, subfactions are often made up by members of particular trade unions.
Ticket - A politically unified group of students who runs in campus elections, often affiliated with a faction.
Key bodies
UMSU (um-soo) – The University of Melbourne Student Union has been around in some form or another since 1884, with the stated purpose of providing representation and services for all Unimelb students. UMSU student representatives consist of:
- Student’s Council is UMSU’s board of directors and highest decision-making body, responsible for setting the strategic direction of the organisation through voting on policy and budgeting at fortnightly meetings.
- Office Bearers (OBs) oversee the various departments of UMSU (e.g. Welfare, Media, Women’s), responsible for running campaigns, publications, collectives and whatever else Students’ Council authorises.
- Committees are multi-member bodies that exist for all departments except Media, generally responsible for authorising the expenditure of that department. While a ticket may hold an office, they can be rendered powerless if they fail to hold a majority in their departmental committee.
Outside of the student representative departments, UMSU is staffed by a small army of professional staff members working across divisions of Communications, Marketing & Events (CME), Legal & Advocacy, Arts & Culture, and People & Community, all overseen by the Office of the CEO, who is appointed by Students’ Council.
2024’s election saw the highest voter turnout from students since UMSU’s incorporation in 2005, with over 7000 ballots submitted—a significant improvement upon last years’ 4917. As overall percentages of the total student body however, these figures still pale in comparison to decades prior, when membership of UMSU was compulsory for all enrolled students.
Yet with $7.5 million per year in SSAF funding to its name, UMSU is no small fish in the Unimelb pond.
NUS (en-you-ess) – The peak representative body of Australian tertiary students, the NUS is responsible for lobbying and advocacy, as well as their two annual conferences, aptly named EdCon and NatCon. Education Conference, held this year in Perth, is a platform to discuss various campus projects and host policy debates. National Conference, held every December at a Victorian campus, is the NUS’ annual general meeting where delegates decide policy for the year and vote on the following years’ representatives.
Key players
Community for UMSU
Since their first appearance in the 2020 UMSU election, Community has risen to prominence as the dominant political player on campus, a status they will retain going into 2025.
Where once Community was a broad church with a strong contingent of Grassroots Independents and other bases of support among their leadership, those days are seemingly long gone. Community leadership is now decidedly dominated by the Shop, Distributive and Allied Employees Association (SDA) subfaction of Labor Right, although they continue to run a number of non-factional representatives on their ticket. Coming from the right wing of the Labor Party, Community pride themselves on a particular brand of centre-left pragmatism that usually manifests as a focus on service provision, such as Union Mart and large-scale events, and working with the University to push reform, particularly diversity and inclusion.
Left Action
Left Action, the electoral sobriquet of Socialist Alternative, is a ticket of revolutionary Trotskyists in the particular political tradition of Cliffism—you’ve probably run into one outside of Arts West or the Baillieu Library, or maybe outside the State Library at a rally hawking a copy of their in-house publication, Red Flag. Left Action’s vision for student unionism is almost purely activist, tending to prioritise political campaigns and long-term movement building around issues such as free
education, anti-imperialism and socialist internationalism. Recently emerging as a stronger political force in UMSU politics, deals with Community in 2022 and 2023 granted Socialist Alternative access to the offices of Education (Public) and Environment. However, with this deal having died prior to this year’s elections, Left Action instead allied themselves with newcomer ticket, More!.
Stand Up!
Stand Up! is a longstanding force in UMSU student politics as the ticket of the Labor Left faction. In 2023, they ran as a coalition with the Transport Workers Union (TWU), a Labor Right subfaction. The traditional MO of Stand Up! has been to try to find a balance between promoting student life and pursuing left-wing political goals. Labor Left frequently espouse the virtues of a “two-pronged approach” to student unionism, believing that lobbying and activism are both necessary for achieving change.”
One of UMSU’s strongest factions during the 2010s, Stand Up! have performed poorly in the last few UMSU elections. Their Left/TWU coalition fell apart earlier this year, leading to the creation of Activate and More!, which ran as separate tickets in the 2024 election.
Activate
Activate is a coalition controlled by Labor Left, which began after Stand Up!’s split this year. Activate features candidates from the Unimelb Greens Club and student activists from Unimelb for Palestine, who were responsible for the Gaza Solidarity Encampment on South Lawn last semester. Activate won Queer and Clubs and Societies Offices, and three Students Council positions. Activate has continued the Stand Up! strategy of running on both student issues, such as extension policy reform, and explicitly left-wing political stances, such as support for pro-Palestine campaigns.
More!
More! for UMSU was born out of Stand Up’s dissolution in 2024 and is dominated by members of TWU. Notably, at this year’s UMSU election, More! nominated three candidates with proven connections to the Melbourne University Liberal Club and the Liberal Party. The candidates’
nominations were mysteriously later withdrawn. While this iteration of More! might be new, the brand has been around for a long time. Historically, their priorities have been a largely apolitical focus on grassroots mobilisation, promoting clubs and collectives, and expanding UMSU events and activities. However, with this version of the ticket being led by members of TWU, the ticket’s claim to independent status is perhaps not as firm as it may have been back in the 2010s.
Rebuild
Rebuild, the chosen alias of Unimelb’s Young Liberals, currently holds no offices, and two seats on Students’ Council. Significantly, however, in 2024 they hold five of seven committee positions within the Clubs & Societies department, an arrangement which has proven difficult for this years’ Stand Up! OBs.
Rebuild tend to pitch their politics as a more moderate and sensible alternative to that of the other factions, advocating for a depoliticisation of the student union in favour of pure service provision. They have also consistently run on a platform to extend the free tram zone, a classic UMSU election promise that so far has not panned out.
Independents
This year, the Burnley Campus and Indigenous Office Bearers were both held by small-i independents. A non-factional alliance of students running under the name of Independents for Student Democracy (ISD) previously had minor representation within
UMSU, but their ticket had ostensibly fallen apart by 2023. However, their independent spirit and Southbank affiliations lived on in Southbank Students! For UMSU, who claimed the Southbank Offices in 2023, and have since gone on to rebrand as Independents or Southbank Student Democracy (ISSD) in 2024. Let no one forget Independent Media (IM), the resident ticket organised by members of the Media Collective, who traditionally hold the Media Office (and thereby run Farrago) and usually a single seat on Students’ Council. The Media Collective democratically preselects its candidates for the Media Office, keeping it out of the hands of factional tickets in order to maintain student media’s independence and pluralism.
Concluding remarks
Since 2020, UMSU elections have been increasingly decided by a network of inter-factional non-competition agreements and sub-factional alliances, most of which came to an end in the lead-up to the 2024 election. With this web of deals now fractured, the political fabric of the union has somewhat diversified, yet ultimately Community have still come out of the fray with a strengthened mandate to lead.
Disclaimer: Mathilda Stewart is an incoming UMSU Media Officer for 2025, elected on the Independent Media ticket in the 2024 UMSU elections. She is not a member of any political faction, group or party, on campus or otherwise.
UMSU passes motion calling for a ceasefire in Gaza following legal controversy
by Mathilda Stewart
The University of Melbourne Student Union (UMSU) has on 1 August passed a motion stating its position on the humanitarian crisis in Gaza, having rescinded a previous motion in February of this year after a protracted legal saga.
The new motion, UMSU Stance on the War in Gaza, outlines the union’s support for an immediate and permanent ceasefire in Gaza, an end to the blockade of aid entering the region, and reparations to be made for the reconstruction of Gaza, while reiterating UMSU’s constitutional opposition to all forms of violence and accordingly condemns violence perpetrated by the Israeli Defence Forces and Hamas.
The motion came after two weeks of online consultation with the student body about their stance on the issue, which heard concerns about possible impacts on the safety of Jewish students, but found overwhelming community support for UMSU's proposed motion to stand in solidarity with Palestine.
The consultation process initiated almost two years after a controversial motion, UMSU Stands with Palestine – BDS and Solidarity Policy, passed in April 2022, which called for the University to boycott Israeli institutions and academics who support the Israeli oppression of Palestinians, and for divestment from corporations involved with Israel. The University subsequently distanced itself from UMSU and condemned the motion, stating it did not reflect the views of the University.
The original BDS motion prompted a legal case from postgraduate Law student Justin Riazaty which was expected before the Victorian Supreme Court in April of this year. However, UMSU reached an out-of-court settlement and rescinded the motion in February.
UMSU President Disha Zutshi notes that as part of the consultation process, UMSU sought feedback
from the Jewish Students Society on campus and from Unimelb for Palestine, the activist group that led the Gaza Solidarity Encampment. UMSU also plans to engage with community bodies in future matters relating to the war in Gaza, including the Jewish Community Council of Victoria, the Jewish Council of Australia, and the Australian Palestine Advocacy Network. Zutshi also recognises the overreach of the University by choosing to prosecute 21 students involved at the Arts West/Mahmoud’s Hall sit-in with general misconduct trials, emphasising that UMSU provided advocacy and legal services to students prior to their hearings. “Students have the right to peaceful protest and the right to speak up when something’s going wrong,” says Zutshi.
UMSU CEO Sara Pheasant said that, following the issuing of general misconduct notices, UMSU wrote to Vice Chancellor Duncan Maskell, urging the University to withdraw the allegations and arguing that threats of suspension or expulsion represented a fundamental breach of students’ right to peaceful protest and assembly. Zutshi reports that she has been in negotiations with the University regarding the potential impact of planned protest actions on students during upcoming graduation ceremonies, recalling incidents last year where students were removed from the stage and denied access to their academic transcripts.
While University management has ruled that gowns must be worn over keffiyehs, there has yet to be a decision on how they will respond to individual students’ protests at graduation. Zutshi cited the importance of student expression and right to peaceful protest. “As a union, we’ll always be on the forefront of standing with students.”
Federal government’s proposed enrolment cap set to slash international student intake at University of Melbourne
by Ibrahim Muan Abdulla
The federal government’s proposed international student caps announced in early September would see the University of Melbourne’s international student intake limited to 9300 next year.
With the University having expected 11,000 international students to enrol in 2025 compared to 10,400 in 2024, this cap would reduce international student intake by 18% and cost the University $85 million next year.
"The consequences of the proposed cap will become clearer in the weeks ahead. However, there is no doubt that they will be significant and damaging for the University,” says Acting Vice Chancellor Nicola Phillips.
"The proposal to arbitrarily cap international students at universities puts [Australia’s diplomatic and social success] at serious risk – it will harm all students, domestic and international, and jeopardise the sector’s reputation and long-term sustainability,” says Phillips.
Federal Education Minister Jason Clare has defended the cap, citing it as a necessary measure to return net migration to “pre-pandemic levels.”
"This is about setting up the system in a better and fairer way so it's not only a lucky few universities that benefit but the whole sector," says Federal Education Minister Jason Clare.
“It should not just be the big metro unis that benefit from international education.”
The Group of Eight
Data from the Department of Education indicates that four out of eight universities in the Group of Eight (Go8) face having international student numbers capped, prompting backlash from affected universities.
“The Group of Eight remains implacably opposed to international student caps for the damage they will do to the sector and the nation,” says Go8 Chief Executive Vicki Thomson.
The Go8 have taken particular aim at the government’s National Planning Level target, which would cap nationwide international student intake at 270,000.
“This policy was bad yesterday and it is bad today – the unexplained number gives us no comfort.”
Aside from the University of Melbourne, the Australian National University faces a cut of 14.5% from 3,972 international students in 2023 to 3,400 students in 2025.
The University of Sydney, which has a proportion of 46% international students, will face a 7% cap from 12,790 international students in 2023 to 11,900 in 2025.
Similarly, the University of New South Wales faces a 14% cap on international students which will see its current enrollment of 11,075 decrease to 9,500 international students in 2025.
The Go8 universities have seen significant caps on the number of international students they can enrol in the coming year, however, the most significant slash in international student numbers is at Federation University Australia, which will see its international student numbers cut by 52% from 2,306 to 1,100 students.
While a number of Universities have their international student numbers capped, Monash University and the University of Adelaide have both received a cap with a 20% increase in international student numbers compared to 2023 from 8,310 to 10,000 and 3,155 to 3,800 respectively.
However, the most significant increase in the international student cap of 517% was given to Charles Sturt University, from 162 international students in 2023 to 1,000 students.
Looking at the financial impact University of Melbourne Acting Vice Chancellor Nicola Phillips predicts a revenue loss of $85 million in 2025, with “flow on impacts” for years to come.
International student fees have in recent years become the second largest source of income for Australian universities, accounting for over 30% of their income, behind government funding.
“How exactly can we deliver [for future students] in the midst of a tail-spinning downward spiral of core funding?” says Universities Australia Chair Professor David Lloyd, accusing the government of underfunding universities for decades.
The international student cap, which strips away a significant portion of income for universities, would likely have severe implications for meeting the goals set by the government of increasing national tertiary qualification attainment from 60 to 80% among working age Australians by 2050.
Reaching this benchmark would require educating a million additional students in the coming decades which is the “equivalent of creating a new institution the size of Monash University every two years,” says Lloyd.
Speaking at the senate inquiry, University of Western Sydney’s Vice Chancellor Professor George Williams stated that he was “frankly shocked” by the details of the cap.
“The formula is deeply flawed, deeply random and arbitrary… It will have perverse unintended consequences and cause great damage.”.
A history of migration policy targeting international students
This is not the first time that the Australian government has prompted backlash for policy changes affecting international students. Earlier in the year, migration expert Abul Rizvi raised concerns over the new system for judging visa applicants, which he described to be “unfair and unsustainable” as it resulted in delays in visa processing times from weeks to months, and a record decline in visa approval rates for international students. As a result of lack of consistent rationale in the approval and rejection of visas, international students were left with extensive delays, often missing orientations and the first few weeks of classes during the first semester. The ambiguity surrounding the approval and rejection of visas has been described as “racist and detrimental to Australia’s hard-won status as a global leader in higher education” in international media. Student visa rejections become most prominent among Southeast Asian students, especially students from India and Pakistan. Students from India had only 64% of their applications approved compared to 84.6% in 2022/2023, and Pakistani students recorded a severe drop in visa approval rates from 91% in 2022/2023 to 34% this year. Universities Australia Chair David Lloyd has called out the government for “willfully weakening” the economy with the announcement of international student caps and of using international students as “cannon fodder in a poll-driven battle over migration.” "International students are intrinsic to our purpose as a University and to the breadth, diversity and vibrancy of our University community and its work. We will continue to do everything that we can to make sure that the University of Melbourne remains a destination that international students will want to choose well into the future” reassured Vice-Chancellor Professor Nicola Phillips in a public statement released by the University.
2024 UMSU Election Results: Another Year, Another Community Sweep
by Mathilda Stewart and Joel Duggan
In one of the most contested elections in modern UMSU history, and with around 7000 ballots cast, this year’s student elections represented a marked and welcome departure from recent trends of electoral disengagement. Coming off a year of historic protests against the University’s relationships with weapons manufacturers connected to the Israeli government, Palestine was a strong electoral focus for several tickets. Socialist Alternative were quick to claim the name of “Left Action - Free Palestine” for their ticket, while multiple candidates from Activate bore connections to Unimelb for Palestine, the activist group behind the Gaza Solidarity Encampment.
The cost-of-living crisis was also at the front of many voters’ minds, with a rapidly expanding Union Mart having demonstrated the power of student unions to alleviate food insecurity.
But even with this intense political backdrop, student life concerns remained on the agenda.
For Community, a digital student ID and the new student bar were spruiked as key planks of their platform. For Activate, cheaper campus food and fairer extensions were priorities. For More!, the focus was on a bigger clubs budget and more free food and drinks. And as usual, Rebuild ran on extending the free tram zone.
While the more explicitly political platforms of Activate and Left Action saw moderately strong voter support, it seems the student body has once again vindicated the electoral importance of incumbency and prioritising student issues, delivering Community another year in leadership.
This year’s elections were delivered by Above Quota Elections, who appointed Stephen Luntz (affectionately called “Sluntz”) as the Returning Officer, with Patrick Clearwater and Jaime Adam as Deputy Returning Officers, responsible for overseeing the electoral process and enforcing the rules and regulations.
Office Bearers
While the last two elections saw the three major tickets of Community, Stand Up! and Left Action engage in non-compete deals for UMSU offices which effectively predetermined the outcomes, this year intensifying rivalries between the factions meant that the vast majority of offices were contested by at least three tickets. However, all this divorce seems to have led to, for the moment, a Community monopoly on almost all OB positions, granting them what is arguably their first completely legitimate, stand-alone democratic mandate. Community has maintained what will now be their third consecutive year of dominance in the executive, once more claiming President and General Secretary. New competition has done little to dampen the strength of their margins.
With their marriage of convenience ending this year, Community has also successfully run their own people for Education (Public) and Environment, claiming them from Left Action
Activate has managed to nab the Queer Office from Community and retained Stand Up!’s control of Clubs & Societies—one of the few offices not contested by Community. However, they have lost Stand Up!’s recent mainstays of the Women’s Office and Education (Academic) Office to Community. Despite contesting the majority of positions, More! and their newfound comrades in Left Action were ultimately unsuccessful in securing an office. In the world of non-factional tickets, Independent Media will go on to hold the Media Office for its eighteenth year. Independents for Southbank Student Democracy (ISSD) have won the Southbank Offices largely uncontested, while independent Baela Stumpf Tinsley was elected unopposed to the Burnley Office. Independent candidate Noah Kellett was also victorious over Left Action for the Indigenous Office in both a by-election for the remainder of 2024 and for the 2025 Office.
Students’ Council
While Community have retained eleven seats on Students’ Council, the end of their deal with Socialist Alternative has seen them lose the two seats dealt out to members of their caucus by Left Action. This represents an overall weakening, albeit small, of Community ’s grip on Students’ Council, the key decision-making mechanism of the student union.
Most autonomous seats elected by restricted constituencies were secured by Community, with the exception of Indigenous Students’ Representative, claimed by Left Action, and Southbank Students’
Representative, which was claimed by ISSD Stand Up! splinter tickets More! and Activate have scored one and three Council seats respectively, representing an improvement on Stand Up!’s showing last year.
Independent Media, while falling short of the quota for a councillor on first preferences alone, managed to retain their one seat after preference distribution. Rebuild has lost one of their two seats, failing to improve upon their subpar performance since debuting in 2022.
Committees
Community once again have maintained the upper hand in departmental committee results, holding a controlling majority in seven of nine committees. Activate holds at least two positions on eight of nine committees, with More! and Left Action seeing
representation on five and two committees respectively. ISSD have packed the Southbank Students Committee with their candidates uncontested, while singular independents were elected to the Burnley Students Committee and Indigenous Students Committees.
NUS Delegates
While NUS delegates are elected via tickets, what matters in reality are the federal-level factions each candidate caucuses with; Community is affiliated with the SDA sub-faction of Student Unity (the Labor Right), More! is affiliated with the TWU sub-faction of Student Unity, Activate is affiliated with National Labor Students (Labor Left), Left Action is affiliated with Socialist Alternative, and Rebuild is affiliated with the
Australian Liberal Students Federation In contrast to their broader electoral success, the SDA have lost one of their four delegates, while the Liberals lost their singular delegate. With National Labor Students and Socialist Alternative each picking up a delegate, going from a total of one each two each, there seems to have been a small leftward shift in the demographics of Unimelb’s NUS picks.
University Council
Unlike most other positions which are decided during this election period, University Council is not an UMSU body but rather the University of Melbourne board of directors. One student sits on the Council and is elected every two years, with the idea being that they will represent student interests on the board. It is run through UMSU elections largely out of convenience.
Current UMSU General Secretary Enzhe (Kevin)
Li of Community was provisionally elected to University Council, provided that he is approved by the University. Li ran on a platform of promoting diversity and inclusion, and pushing for greater accessibility of University governance. Coming in a relatively close second was Unimelb for Palestine member Reham Elzeiny, who ran with Activate on a platform of pushing the University to disclose their ties with and divest from weapons manufacturers.
What happened during election week?
Election week kicked off with rain and hail, prompting some to take to phonebanking in what was certainly a creative interpretation of the Returning Officers’ first ruling, issued the prior Friday, expressly forbidding bulk electronic communications. Yet, ballot privacy and overbearing campaigners bullying students into voting proved once again to be the ROs’ most significant concern. In a ruling issued Monday evening, campaigners were forbidden from talking to students looking at their phones or attempting to convince students to vote in front of them. Speaking on Friday evening after ballots closed, RO Stephen Luntz again recommended a return to paper voting, despite the costs and logistical challenges, in
order to preserve the privacy and security of ballots. While incidents of physical aggression were avoided this year, Farrago received a concerning number of reports of bullying and harassment of varying degrees of severity, subsequently proliferated across social media. While student politics is evidently important, it’s probably not worth the toll it takes on participants’ mental health. Farrago wishes everyone would be nicer to each other. �� On a more positive note, Farrago wishes to extend a special shoutout to More! Man—surely one of the week’s strongest soldiers—and expresses their grave disappointment that Independent Media went to the effort of purchasing a Farra-Gorilla suit but seemingly not finding someone who could bother to wear it.
What happens now?
The simple answer—much the same. Students who have been satisfied with UMSU’s services and political direction in 2024 will probably continue to be satisfied, while those who have been dissatisfied will probably continue to be dissatisfied. With another year in power, Community have prominent plans to invest further in a growing Union Mart, with the expansion of its operations to five days a week clearly the ticket’s proudest achievement this year. Considering that 2024 Welfare OB Joshua Stagg has been elected President, advocacy around Union Mart and cost of living will likely be even more on UMSU’s agenda next year.
However, if the influx of new tickets and growing interfactional competition indicates anything, it is that there are many who have issues with UMSU’s governance and politics in 2024. Community’s detractors have taken particular aim at the ticket’s support for rescinding an earlier BDS motion in the face of legal pressure, their broader emphasis on service provision over activism, and what some perceive as a technocratic disposition that has undermined the ability of student movements to mobilise through UMSU (particularly via Special General Meetings).
We will see what becomes of the ticket’s other policy commitments—goals such as a digital student ID and better, more equitable work opportunities for students through Students@Work and Careers Fair are certainly possible to carry out, but also require cooperation on the University’s end, which is never a guarantee.
Students’ Council will likely remain a largely unproductive series of shouting matches where Community allows Socialist Alternative to bring a handful of ideological motions promoting left-wing campaigns to the floor while the majority of the room stays quiet, and many of the internal machinations of Council remain opaque to students. (It is perhaps noteworthy that no major ticket seemed to incorporate measurable steps towards greater transparency as a key plank of their policy platform.) Some of the newcomer tickets will likely try to capitalise upon their limited influence to try and build for the years to come, but it remains to be seen whether they will grow enough to break the now three-year streak of Community dominance.
Mathilda Stewart is a Deputy News Editor of Farrago and was elected unopposed as a Media Officer on the Independent Media ticket in the 2024 UMSU Election.
Joel Duggan is the News Editor of Farrago and an UMSU Media Officer, elected on the Independent Media ticket in the 2023 UMSU Election.
They are not members of any political faction, group or party, on campus or otherwise, and are both too personally fulfilled to be involved in student politics beyond the Media Department.
by Sophie He and Jessica Fanwong
You forgot the ground existed. The ground forgot you too. You stopped casting shadows and contented yourself to aimlessly float. You weren’t floating particularly high, just a little more than 30 cm above the ground. But this was actually advantageous. When you were on the ground, you weren’t very tall. Now, you come in at a cool, standard 180 cm. You often have whole conversations with people who don’t even notice that you are floating. Often, they just remark on your slightly-above-average height and leave with a cheerful farewell, their gazes not once dropping down to your floating feet.
Floating is an art. Just ask any balloon. Or balloon artist. Once you’ve lost a centre of gravity, it takes all your muscles to stay upright. And upright seems like a trifling business when you have no centre of gravity. It takes all your muscles to stay upright. So, you’ve got great muscles now. Particularly your pectorals. But sometimes you feel like your bones are still too heavy and are weighing you down. Recently, you’ve been going about town, donating these excess bones to struggling Halloween shops.
“Take them!” You insist when the kindly old owner refuses. “Take them and display them in your window. Think – real bones! How dreadfully spooky! Take them! I don’t need them – I float.”
“But what if,” he asks, “what if you return to the ground one day? Have you seen what happens to blob fish when they’re dragged to the surface?”
You assure him if that were ever to happen, however unlikely it may seem, you would gladly return to
the deep sea to live with the fish. Besides, why would you ever return to the ground? With a white sheet over your head, and cornflour ectoplasm dribbling behind you, you have the perfect ghost Halloween costume. What a classic! The old Halloween shop owner shrugs and accepts the femur you’re offering.
Now that you’ve lost a few kilos, you suddenly feel so light, like you could soar with the birds! That being said, you’re still no more than 30 cm off the ground. After all, you don’t have feathers. So, in the dead quiet of a bucolic night, you sneak into a chicken farm, hoping to accrue enough feathers to fly. You begin to roam the countryside as a crazed chicken-plucker, descending in the night like a swarm of locusts, so that when the new day dawns, bewildered farmers are left staring at their coops of stark-naked chickens. It never occurs to you that chickens can't fly. Floating in your inner-city apartment, surrounded by tons of flightless feathers, you finally despair. Wobbling in the air, you shakily bend your gelatinous knees, reach down with your emaciated arms. You have beautiful oak floors. You’re a model renter who’s never once scratched them up. The oak floors which are matted with dust. You try to touch them, but your feet refuse to descend below those terrible 30cm. It’s then that you realise there will forever be 30 cm between you and the ground. You’ve remembered that the ground exists. But the ground continues to forget you.
The Return of Pan
by Pluto Cotter
Content warnings: mentions of death
A new adventure awaited. The city I loved was Now lost.
Discarded ruins of The life I had been forced to live, A catastrophic nightmare For which I will forever be responsible.
Rubble of grey behind me, Expanses of bumpy green before me. The rolling hills would Grasp me in their folds, Hold me safe, Present me with a new life.
The remnants of the city Would decay And fade away. The memories Will disperse, become A single speck.
My life will not remain One not worth living. A life of mundane human work That I have been punished with For Eons.
My penance has been paid, The humanoid work Is no longer working. I will return to my place–The God Of The Wild. My brethren will not hold me In a grey, slated jail.
I am
The God of the Wild. The Creator of Forests. The Nurturer of Nature.
All that contends will see The ashy rubble of their homes And the destruction Of human creation.
I think I’ll move on and create something new–A new forest. That conceals the horrors of human hands And takes from Those who have worked to destroy My lands.
The mortal beings have Ruined a world, A beautiful natural expanse That I cultivated, That I loved, That I birthed for their pleasure.
When I threatened their destruction My brethren Sent me here to live As one of them. I remember who I am, I remember What I am capable of.
Several thousand mortal deaths, A billion more to go until My earth can be redeemed Can be led To the vibrant state It once was.
I am Within the trees. I am
The sprouting leaves. I am More than just powerful.
I am Pan.
moment of weakness
by stolenchampagne
it’s easier to keep my distance than to admit i miss you, because that’s a sort of weakness, isn’t it? to stay away for so long, to push you away when you held out a hand, to repeatedly betray your trust and hate you for my faults and still want you on those nights when i feel particularly vulnerable; it’s a shameful feeling, one i hate, one i’d burn out of my soul if given the opportunity to, forfeiting my life and your sanity in the process, and i don’t know how to cope with this distance and that’s a dangerous admission, i know, with outcomes i cannot predict and that fucking terrifies me, so it’s easier to write this here, in a little part of the world that i know you won’t have access to. maybemaybe one day
i’ll gather the courage to show you, written on that website of mine i know you once read religiously, the one that you no longer care for, and maybe we’ll be plagued by regrets for the words we chose to leave unsaid, but it’ll go both ways, won’t it? it always went both ways, didn’t it?
by stolenchampagne
Content warnings: references to death and fire
i can think of the ash that coats your hands, your lungs, as you lay here preserved in time, as i sit upon these crumbling stones, weathered with the passage of eras long gone and the undisturbed continuity of the world, and i think back to the panic you must have felt flooding your veins, the horror and fright firing your neurons, the hysteria of your people setting your molten eyes ablaze as you stared at the ribbons of orange that would decimate you in one panoptic wave, vulcan’s breath fossilizing your bones, smothering your screams as though they never existed, and it is arrogant of me to imagine, to dare transcribe a tragedy i can never know onto this notebook’s pages, but i cannot stop thinking about the erraticism of nature and the decisive hand of fate, and how if these collective forces will it, the ghosts of the past could rise and consume me whole with no one to hear my cries, just as there was no one to hear yours.
Oh, baby, with your pretty face–
by Stephen Zavitsanos
Oh, baby, with your pretty face–Tell me in one word that you’re tired of it all And I will stop everything at once. With the nod of my head–cats will not meow, Rain will not fall, Cuts will not scab, Tears will not dry.
Oh, baby, with your pretty face–Allow me morning breath lips And eyebags I may slip into. Baby, contort your pretty face And become my gossamer, Become my gossamer, Become something solid, even–
Oh, baby, tell me you’re a poet But a barista for the moment. Tell me it’s only a matter of time Before your words will mean something. Oh, baby, pass through me. Let it pass whenever.
Baby, oh, let it be felt. In a stanza or a text Let it be felt. Oh, dry eyes and goodbyes–Let it be felt today.
Oh, baby, pretty your face And dissolve into me.
This is not a love poem
by NImrada SIlva
There will be no metaphors about stars or blue skies or soft sounds that seas make at night
There will be no mention of sunflowers or orange slices still cold in my mouth
You won’t find mentions of songs written by delusional fools
This will be a clean poem
A proper poem
A non-sentimental, no-nonsense sort of business
It will be about trees that hold you and wrench sadness out your chest like a sponge wrenches out soapy water
It will be about warm teas in my cold hands, and strangers in libraries that made me smile That offered me scraps and pieces of conversation and oh – I held onto them as if they were bits of gold nuggets this poem will be about how we go on on and on and on even if at times we think we cannot
See — it was not a love poem I did not mention you – not even once And how could it be a love poem without some shadow of you ?
Rigours
by NImrada SIlva
“Only the young, he thought, could withstand the rigors of love…but there was no telling Harmon anything. There is no telling anyone anything when they have been infected this way.”
- “Starving” in Olive Kitteridge (by Elizabeth Strout)
Isn’t it strange how it plays out at times I wonder if we really choose anything at all I mean you go on for so long thinking so vehemently there is a ‘good’ path and another one and you think if you are smart and you think it all through you meditate and draw up a list then you will be safe isn’t that what anyone wants?
The path of least resistance we want our lives to be the same as it was the day before and the day after that
We feel proud of ‘control’ of never being uncertain never not knowing how it will play out
Still, I remember something Murakami said about how we don’t live in a world of measuring balances and protractors and sometimes no matter how hard we think we can never be sure of how choices unfold sometimes we cannot know if one path is ‘better’ or worse until many moons afterwards
Frankly I am tired of fighting this so there it is
I’ve said it
I want you and I am not afraid of consequences And I know someday four weeks or four months from now it might dissipate you might get tired, or we will find it cumbersome
But I’m afraid my heart is a stubborn thing I can’t help it
So, I’ve accepted it because time is finite, and I don’t want to waste it all worrying because it’s awfully difficult to fall in love with anything
Let alone an actual person and mostly because nothing else seems to matter when you smile like that, and I know all things end someday
But in the meantime, can’t it be beautiful?
When Is My Birthday?
by Aaron Agostini
Content warning: brief references to drug use
you don’t like Lana Del Rey. you don’t like me. you love me. and you and you can never seem to find the write words to tell me. too bad. not one to right your own story. clearly.
so, instead, you tell me that you like Lana Del Rey. that you love Lana Del Rey. that you are obsessed with her. because I told you I liked her, because I told you I loved her, months ago.
as months went by and I moved away you kept thinking of me. of how much you love me. of how much I love her. of how much we could have loved her. Together. if we were still Together.
so you keep thinking of her, of me, and now at 2 am you can’t text me to say I love you— that would strike too raw a chord.
instead you text me: “I miss you,” “Everyone here is fake,” and “I’ve been obsessed with Lana Del Rey recently. I just love her.”
her, in this instance, being just another pretty voice in your ear. one that doesn’t feel so far away. one that’s right in your airpod. always on your mind. hands wrapped firmly around your cracked phone, cranking up the volume, rubbing the handrails on trains, sweating, dreaming about heroin. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t sick of it.
you tell me you like her. you tell me you love her. you tell me you are obsessed with her. but what you cannot tell me is the name of a single album.
you shrug. on that note, tell me again, When is my birthday?
Pulse of Time
by Charlotte Ang
Morning breaks the quiet
With the vigour found in sunrays against frost, In fresh rain on dry crops; nevertheless Praised by the hopeful farmer.
Days follow days, follow nights.
‘Follow us’ the treetops sing. Becoming, bathing, welcoming Under the arms of a golden canopy.
Like the petal unfurling, Curtains open on wide windows, Welcoming morning whispers, Accompanying the likes of sunrays and morning dew.
Heads twist and bloom in evergreen Trodden amber underfoot, Their necks pinched by muddy nails, Tossed behind bent backs to the friend of The Sunray.
‘The love I long for is natural, Yellowed brick built on forgotten hills.’ Says The Sunray To The Cat.
Eternally embraced, The lovers are warm, welcoming, whispering, Shouting lest they lose their lovers kiss; Found cheek to cheek, arm around waist.
And like The Sun to its lover, I return to where I am best fit, I return to the ray of my own. In the depth of my own making, I wait.
It is to my own making that I am the women before me, Found underground, or in my home, Holding my children by the hand.
The depth of this river I wade Surfaces sunk gold among reeds. Unsunk stories of gold and river-shone Jewellery passed from grandmother to mother.
A young girl, grandmother, would play ‘Til sunset leaves tense kisses on her neck, By the river inlet, by the coast, By her childhood home.
Rings crafted from dry reeds, And placed in a rough dress pocket With a handful of cream sand To be passed to the desk of her father.
Rings that now reside in gold, Around the finger of the man she loved, The worker, the miner, The provider for her children.
Picked at by time, Brown rings circle red in the eroded banks of the river, Until all that was left was gold to hang from her neck, Complimented by my daughters, and the daughters after mine.
Now, the river of my grandmother Dries up around me, Baring its only treasures to its visitors, for The promise of consecration.
The river; found too late to be saved, Condemned to forget, to be forgotten. Receive her rings one day soon, In a letter signed by grandmother…
The ring wrapped around my finger, In the hand against your chest, Beating to the trickle of rain returning to the earth And the sun returning to rest.
In darkness, fog falls to wipe the rouge from cheeks, Alongside the dust collected from the day. Carry it downstream tonight, In cloudy, coloured currents.
In darkness,
The last petal will fold, and clench, And brace for the chill That follows sundown.
Winds will pick up in waves. They will carry tides of cool, lingering kisses
On breezy, soil scented air
Through closed eyes and empty lungs.
Leave the window by your bed ajar In the hopes of catching one of those waves. Forget-not the day gone, But remember the days to come.
Dew, turns to frost; to dew once more, Seduced by the trees to linger Longer than seasonal fruits, And leave dancing shadows on ill-lit lawns.
That curtain, wide, catches the light. The moon grins to the sparkling sky. She lets out a sly wink And welcomes Herself back to the night.
Howl to the moon, Little Cat, But then sit quietly Till the return of your lover.
Declare to the unknowing Your intentions to wait. Wait, for the break of silence, For what you know comes next.
Night to day, ancient and forever, Whom never recognise each other, nor the first glimpse of a new day; Nor the beating pulse of love; Nor the beating pulse of time.
I’m In Love With 1,6-Dichloro-1,6-dideoxy- -D-fructofuranosyl-4-chloro-4-deoxy-α-galactopyranoside
by Aaron Agostini
I love the way you walk into my office, like you're lost or something, all big grin, like a hug I can smell with my eyes. You tell me my thighs are starting to hurt, bruising even, from the rental harness— we should really buy our own at this point. We’ve certainly climbed enough rocks to justify it. Maybe a pair of climbing shoes as well. Perhaps then we’d be better at getting on top of things.
Why is it that it’s always directly after the moment has passed we discover the perfect quip to respond: would you like me to kiss them to make it feel better? Something fun. Something flirty. Something I’m not: a person who feels confident stepping into a new grocery store.
Doesn’t have to Google it first to make sure they don’t close in half an hour. Doesn’t get mad when people walk too slow. Doesn’t get mad at getting mad when people are walking too slow. Takes deep breaths all the time, not just when things are starting to slip away. Likes to have fun— you know, the only lie I ever told anyone was that I like to have fun.
Mr. Sore Thighs once told me he’s never had a panic attack before. He was concerned, like it was a bad thing, like, as in, should I be worried? No, princess. No one should ever be worried. But, nonetheless, here we are.
Out at sea
by E.U.Wood
Out at sea, the monotonous waves stretch beyond their visible end. With time, humanity is driven to follow its path. Land erodes, life decays back into the earth from which it sprung—but not the sea. The same horizon was beheld by the explorers of bygone eras, ploughing ahead into the rough unknown. Our descendants shall witness these seas too, unchanged. The waves thrash against one another for eternity, existing outside of time and the continual progression of everything known. One is inclined to wonder if the waves exist outside of our perception of them. Perhaps they emerge from a void bordering the visible end, being disassembled and reclaimed as they once again slip from our field of vision. Everything that exists is contained within this visible circle. All that is, may be consumed by hungry eyes scouring the horizons, the perfect circle of patterned waves. Does the drop of existence travel through the surrounding emptiness, bringing light to the darkness for a moment before returning to darkness faster than the light’s arrival?
Or perhaps the drop of reality remains stationary in the darkness as the void passes by, wishing so deeply to crush the borders and absorb all that is contained within. The horizons, destined by the laws of nature to never meet, speed towards you in the centre of it all. Quickly, the horizons approach. Existence loses the battle of attrition against the emptiness trying to swallow it. Have you ever seen anything like it? Stretch your hands out to each side and touch the opposite ends of the horizon. Is the border between your world and the abyss soft? Do your fingertips pass straight through the light into the darkness behind it? Suppose there is no feeling outside our little circle of compressed horizons. No matter; the end is near. The horizons begin their march, converging on us and our existence. Imagine it: blissful, the passing border uniting our bubble with the empty plane. We will simply disappear. Here it comes. You won’t feel a thing; there will be nothing. Close your eyes. Darkness—but conscious. Slowly, open your eyes. The visible ends restored to their limits, hugging a distant speckle of land.
Umbilical Noose1
by Astara Ball
Content warning: mentions of blood and reference to death
Last night I had a nightmare. I sat in a pool of blood…nowhere to move, no way out. Transfixed, paralysed, all I could do was behold what was before me; I watched you dig your fingers into my belly button and you tear me apart.
Seduced by Glutton you had no tenderness to impart. I urged you to devour me allowed your gaze within my womb but you were encircled by blood’s army and led to your tomb I witnessed a fleshy cord string you up and pull you apart I ached to be rid of us – no trace in the gallows of my heart. Its echoing chambers and the courses that we chart, dragged us through a labyrinth and back to the gruesome start most vile of all our birthplace
1 Nirvana, ‘Heart Shaped Box’, In Utero, 1993. “Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet/ Cut myself on angel hair and baby’s breath/ Broken hymen of Your Highness, I’m left black/Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back.”
Woven from the streams of Thibaw
by Nay Chi Nway
Content warnings: mentions of death, blood, war, conflict and murder 6:19 p.m.
The sky has turned blue-black, transforming the paddy fields into a long stretch of fluid silhouettes, oblong and shimmering with tints of green. The crows utter their last cries as they return to their nests. On the horizon, a thin strand of sunlight still remains.
Thiha waits at the bus stop. The bus stop is not really a bus stop but a flickering lamp post, a clay water pot and a large tamarind tree, its lanky limbs and pinnate leaves swaying with ease. It is here that the farmers crowd around on market days to send off their harvests into the city, wrapped in newspaper, plastic and braided husks. Here, the children staying at inner-city boarding schools are dropped off on the weekends. Here, she, Nyein, would arrive from her workplace at the Yangon railway office every evening between 6 pm to 6:45 pm.
It is here that he comes to see her every day. Here that he feels the grounding warmth of her skin against his as they walk together, hears the easing timbre of her voice, and thinks: now my day is complete. And it is here, tomorrow morning, where he will be getting on the first bus before daybreak to head off to faraway lands.
6:22 p.m.
Today has not been different from other days: the weather is warm and humid, the children are shouting as they run home for their meals, and there is a low breeze that makes the trees sway. If Thiha allows himself he could be reassured by the illusion of normalcy. But last night’s conversation, among other things, weighs heavily on his mind, and the wait that is usually peaceful is filled with apprehension. He lights a cigarette and watches diligently as the smoke rises, wishing he could dissipate with it. “You are abandoning me,” is what Nyein had said yesterday evening, her back turned towards him as they stood in the dark. The night had been filled with uneasy silences: out of nowhere she had turned malicious, refusing to be touched, to be consoled, but it was this accusation that most caught him off guard. When the letter of conscription had arrived it had been alongside the destruction of their neighbouring town. It was she who had first told him to leave as they observed the debris—the scorched fields, the dust, the cattle, the deserted houses and shops that had been halved, quartered, or battered into irregular shapes. Her tone had been irrefutable yet gentle when she commanded: you have to leave and save yourself.
It was she who brought him supplies from the city centre and asked around for routes to the liberated zones, she who, in his frenzied panic over murder and bloodshed, assured him that all would be fine—and that they would be together again soon. Someday.
To have been shown so explicitly the depths of her desolation, and to be reminded that she was capable of weakness, evoked in him simultaneously a revulsion and a desperate urge to save her. He wanted to assure her of her safety in a collapsing world just as she had done for him, and the inability to do so with conviction made him unable to sleep.
Now, as Thiha watches the bus approaching in the distance, blowing up dust and sand, he wonders how he could possibly have so little to offer.
6:25 p.m. is when the bus stops beneath the tamarind tree, screeching as it comes to a halt. The interior is no longer crammed full of bodies, but the stench of sweat baked in midday Yangon heat has remained. Nyein exits the vehicle in a swift movement, clutching her bag in one hand and a neatly folded umbrella in the other. The fringes of her hair cling to her forehead and her longyi is slightly dishevelled, but he could tell that she had, as always, taken care when dressing herself in the morning. The sight of her looking up to meet his eyes makes the knot within his stomach momentarily unfurl. Despite everything, the nervousness retreats. Nyein does not move towards him immediately as he takes in the sight of her, but waits until the bus has left the station. Then she offers him a smile, earnest and unabashed in a way that tells him she is strong again, and it makes him unable to resist reaching his hand out to her. He touches her face with his palm, feeling the suppleness of her skin, the warmth of her flesh against his, the freeing solace that nothing else matters for a moment and that his day is complete.
“Tomorrow?” She asks.
“Tomorrow.”
“Will you call?”
“As soon as I get there.”
Then, after a long silence, she says: “Hold me.”
And he does, sensing the firmness of the earth beneath their feet as they stand close to one another, feeling the breeze against their skin, clutching her close to him with the gentleness of the streams in Thibaw.
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word
by Michelle Yu
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
If I had to coin a word it would be
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
seligadacious sɛləɡədeɪʃəs (adj)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n)
skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n) skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n) skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n) skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n) skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
Scrumidion ˈskrʌmɪdiən (n) skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
skrindilaprous skrɪndɪləprəs (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj) funvi fʌnviː (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj) funvi fʌnviː (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj)
sehweh sɛwɛ (adj) funvi fʌnviː (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
funvi fʌnviː (adj)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
bronki brɒŋkiː (n)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
schlin ʃlɪn (adj)
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
if I had to give them a meaning it would be
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
(adj) (n) (adj) (adj) (adj) (n) (adj) (adj)
tootoo ˈtuːtuː (adj)
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way
scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
seligadacious – being audacious in a half-hearted way scrumidion for a persistent state of producing low-quality work
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
funvi to mean, a bad result
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
funvi to mean, a bad result
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
skrindilaprous to mean something scandalous sehweh to say that something is eh, okay
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
funvi to mean, a bad result
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
if I had to give them a meaning it would be – being audacious in a half-hearted way for a persistent state of producing low-quality work to mean something scandalous to say that something is eh, okay to mean, a bad result to mean fluffy, crusty bread would mean not enough and would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
bronki to mean fluffy, crusty bread tootoo would mean not enough and schlin would mean: a small amount of
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences
I would say
and if I had to put them together in a couple of sentences I would say
I would say
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
scrumidion has had me making sehweh funvi, being seligadacious in a schlin way and its skrindilaprous that I have been eating all this bronki just to produce skrindilaprous amounts of funvi, FUNVI, sehweh work everything I do is tootoo everything is too schlin tootoo
lorde knows: love and resistance are synonyms
“If they cannot love and resist at the same time, they will probably not survive. And in order to survive they must let go” (Audre Lorde)
when the world is unbearable when i can’t fall asleep despite my weariness and fatigue, i come back to your bed: lying down, looking up at the ceiling, humming and harmonising quietly as you play minor chords on the keys.
i can resurrect the comfort easily; i've revisited the moment so frequently, i can almost make myself believe our memory was real.
- - -
co-working on wednesdays
you, at our usual spot, your back turned towards me: fingertips typing, turning pages, then lifting your glass to your lips and finding it empty –you return to writing.
i balance our drinks (a dirty chai and a flat white) and unexpected feelings; trip over them and catch myself –for a moment, longing to trace your tattoos with my tongue, to lose myself in that landscape of yours.
cups clink, you turn, eyes meet and –half-sitting, half-standing, with the mess of polyamory and coffee spilt between our feet –there’s love in liminality.
- - -
to hot and hopeful revolutionaries
my heart carries wounds of unrequited crushing, yet i can’t help falling for those soft radicals: loving and kind, burnt out and brave, (commitment issues notwithstanding) committed to the cause.
in this last-stage economy there’s no alternative for me. what else am i to do, to feel?
withhold my desire, create unwanted distance and linger in pretence? when what i really want is (to witness the colony collapse and) rest in your arms.
supposedly: dwell in uncertainty –(touch, two, three, retreat) and for once cease analysing so-called signs (stare, two, three, stop, five); avert the gaze but stay still one eye on you and one on the price of pain
i always seem to have to pay.
unequivocally: embrace contingency –leave room for trust, retain relentless softness, extend our arms regardless to take care of the collective; rally for the revolution, fight for justice and a future – a world more dignified.
in the meantime, my liberatory love –let us become signifier, to be signified.
Who is Controlling Women’s Birth Control?
by Shuangshuang Xie
Content warning: blood, menstruation, abortion, pregnancy/childbirth, sexism and misogyny
“A doctor refused to give my friend tubal ligation surgery last week, even though she already had three children. The doctor said that she was only 34 years old and may want to have more children in the future.”
When my housemate Brenna told me her friend’s story, I was very surprised. I said, “Do you know that China used to have a family planning policy? My mother was forced to undergo tubal ligation surgery when she was only 31 years old. She had no choice at all.” Brenna said, “I know! It’s very ironic! Chinese women are prohibited from having more children, but Australian doctors encourage women to have more children.”
“Why? Why can’t women control their own birth control?” I exclaimed in frustration.
Many women don’t have complete control over their bodies because of contraception policies in different parts of the world. China is known for its onechild policy, which was fully implemented in the 1970s. By the 1990s, most provinces began to relax the policy and implement the one-and-a-half-child policy in rural areas. Under this policy, women were required to undergo intrauterine device (IUD) surgery after their first birth. If their first child was a girl, women were allowed to remove the IUD after the age of 30, but required to undergo sterilisation surgery after their second birth.
My mum, Xifeng Xu, is a typical Chinese woman who gave birth under the family planning policy. In fact, I have a younger brother who was born under the one-anda-half-child policy. These serious and cold policies became real and bloody through my mother’s narration. “After giving birth to you in 1993, I had to have the ring fitted. At that time, I didn’t have my period for more than a year. I didn’t know how long it would take to remove it.” My mum calls the IUD a “ring” because hers was a stainless-steel ring.
She said, “I was young and ignorant at the time, and the doctor didn’t tell me why I had to have the surgery, nor did they inform me of any potential risks. Anyway, everyone had to have the surgery, so I did it too.” At that time, she had to go to the family planning department every month for a physical examination, including taking X-rays, checking whether she was pregnant and whether the IUD was still in place.
“They also checked with a clamp.” Mom carefully mentioned the “duckbill clamp,” an unspeakable pain for most women. She doesn’t use social media often, so she didn’t know that the duckbill clamp was being hotly discussed on Chinese social media. But she must feel the same coldness embedded in her body, and the shame and discomfort brought by gynaecological examinations.
“Has anyone run away?” I asked. Mom said, “Some people did run away. But their family and neighbours would
be fined, and their food would be confiscated.” For the poor at the time, having food was more important than any thing else. If they were forced to have an IUD, they would just have it done, as long as they could have enough food.
“I got the ring removed when I was 30, and then I gave birth to your younger brother. I had a tubal ligation surgery only a month after giving birth.” Before I could express my shock that she had the surgery so quickly after giving birth, she continued, “I went home the same day of the surgery.”
“The surgical conditions were already very good when I gave birth to your brother in 1999. My sister-in-law had tubal ligation surgery in around 1985. At that time, there were so many people who needed the surgery that not enough beds were available in the ward. The women had to bring their own bedding and sleep on the floor. There would be more than a dozen people lying within the ten square metres of a ward.”
According to The New York Times, “From 1980 to 2014, 324 million Chinese women were fitted with IUDs and 107 million underwent tubal litigation.” According to the China Health and Family Planning Statistical Yearbook, in 1983, 17.76 million Chinese women had IUDs inserted, 16.4 million were sterilised, and 14.37 billion had abortions.
But what would happen if the first child was a boy?
Aunt Yanan, who has been a neighbour of my family for many years, only has a boy. My mum said she had an IUD fitted only three months after giving birth but did not have a tubal ligation surgery. She had to take a biannual physical examination until she turned 48. The IUD had been in her body for more than 20 years, yet no one told her that she needed to remove it. There is no official evidence on how many years the IUDs used in China can last. According to The New York Times, “the popular IUDs in the United States are typically deemed effective for up to 10 years”. What will happen after 10 years? There are more and more cases in China where IUDs have not been removed for many years. Some IUDs have even fused together with the tissues of the uterus and ovaries, eroding women’s bodies day by day, trying to become their blood, their flesh, and a part of their bodies. My mum told me, “Your aunt said she didn’t feel anything special when it was removed, just like being bitten by an ant.” It must have been a huge bite, one which has been biting her hard and fiercely for more than twenty years. The Chinese government announced the implementation of the two-child policy in 2015. The family planning policy that controlled millions of Chinese right contraceptive method for themselves. It seems like
women’s bodies for more than 30 years became history through just a piece-of-paper announcement. While the Chinese women of my mother’s generation could not choose their contraceptive methods, contemporary young Chinese women are now able to choose the women are gaining more control over their own bodies.
Yan Zhao, a Chinese woman studying in Sydney, chose to be a double-income-no-kids (DINK) girl. She wanted a long-term, highly efficient, and easy-to-operate contraceptive method, and decided to have an implant surgery last year. “Before choosing an implant, I had learned about many other contraceptive methods, such as birth control pills and IUDs. I was afraid that I would forget to take the pills and was afraid of inserting the IUD deep into my uterus. So in the end, I chose the implant.”
She has not experienced any serious adverse reactions so far: “I know that some women who opt for implants will not have periods for a long time. This is just right for me. I really want to get rid of the trouble of my monthly periods.” The implant surgery is also very cost-effective—”the cost of medication and the surgery is about 200 to 300 dollars, and it can work for three years.” The only difficulty is that it is hard to undergo this surgery in China. She said, “I feel the technology for implant surgery is not mature in China, so I chose to undergo the surgery in Sydney.”
Unfortunately, Amanda, who also underwent implant surgery, experienced a completely different adverse reaction. “I had an implant surgery six years ago. In the first six months of implantation, everything was fine. But from the seventh month, I started to have vaginal bleeding.” This situation lasted for six months and did not improve, so she decided to remove the implant.
“Actually, it’s very difficult to make an appointment with a doctor because not all doctors can perform the implant surgery. I waited for more than a month to make an appointment with my doctor.” Amanda says, “I feel it costs too much for women to have suitable contraceptive methods. I am exhausted from making appointments, spending a lot of money on the pills and surgeries, and dealing with the adverse reactions.”
So can women really control their own birth control? Maybe not yet. Yan Zhao says, “I feel it’s always women who are encouraged to use contraception. We need more male contraception to shift the burden from females.”
Contraception is only a part of birth control. If you look at abortion policies around the world, you will definitely be shocked like me, and wonder:
Who is CONTROLLING women’s birth control?
by Lauren Luchs
Row Zero
by Jesse Allen
Content warning: abuse, sex, sexual assault, violence
With a single act of courage, a storm which had been brewing for years finally broke. On 25 May 2023, a woman named Shelby Lynn tweeted about her experience at a Rammstein concert in Vilnius. The band is one of Germany’s most recognisable cultural exports, and has deliberately courted controversy over three decades of commercial success. Yet Rammstein frontman, Till Lindemann, was now making headlines for altogether different reasons. What came to light in the aftermath of that first tweet was a well-organised system in which female fans were ‘recruited’ to have sex with Lindemann: it was known as ‘Row Zero.’ The Berlin State Prosecutor’s office opened an investigation on suspicion of sexual assault, as well as violations of the Narcotics Act; however, as no witnesses were prepared to go on the record, this was dropped in August of last year. Many chose to see this as an exoneration: for them, the story ended there.
Not so for Elena Kuch, an award-winning journalist whose team was among the first to cover the accusations against Lindemann in 2023; their work was subsequently nominated for the prestigious Stern Prize. Earlier this year, they released a podcast series, “Rammstein–Row Zero,” which offers an in-depth look at the story and its aftermath. Speaking to women whose lives have been impacted, as well as music industry insiders, the podcast delves into the murky waters between legality and ethics, and raises probing questions about stardom and the abuse of power. Elena generously took the time to answer some of my own questions about the Rammstein investigation.
Looking at the power dynamics that made ‘Row Zero’ possible, is this primarily a problem with the music industry, or is it more a reflection of society in general?
Unequal power relations exist in all areas of society. This is also the case with superstars and their fans. What makes the music industry special is that so many people idolise this person, the star. He or she is placed on a pedestal. Many people who work for the superstar are often also fans. One of our interviewees in the podcast, a manager named Ana Yakina, compared
show business to a cult: ‘Everyone idolises the guru and does what he says.’ This can lead to a situation where nobody in the superstar’s environment is holding them to account anymore. What’s more, in the music industry, sex between stars and fans has generally been seen as something completely normal: as just part of ‘sex, drugs, rock’n’roll’. However, the stars and those around them must realise that such an encounter is never on an equal footing and that the star has a great responsibility as a consequence.
In your opinion, does Rammstein's ‘provocative art’ only serve as a pretext so that the band members don't have to take responsibility for their behaviour?
I can't really say. The fact is that the recurring themes of Rammstein and of Till Lindemann in his solo projects are sex, violence, and masculinity. Very explicit sex scenes are shown in their music videos and some of the videos in the Lindemann project also feature rather violent sex scenes. However, we don't know whether these are Till Lindemann's real fantasies or whether they are art. All we can say is that these themes have played a major role in his work for 30 years now.
How did Rammstein differ from other cases that you have reported on?
The women who had sex with Till Lindemann told us very individual experiences and stories. This system in which women are recruited to have sex with Lindemann is very well organised. He has a proper network for this: recruiters who approach women or invite them to the so-called ‘Row Zero’ at concerts, in front of the front row, via social media. Many of the women are very big fans. Some of these women, around 30 on average, are then invited to pre- or after-show parties, where there are free drinks. Sex between Lindemann and fans took place regularly on the fringes of these parties. Some accuse him of abusing his power. Lindemann denies having non-consensual sex with fans. And something else particular to Rammstein: at con
certs, there was a small room under the stage. During a break in the show, Lindemann met women from ‘Row Zero’ in this room for quick sex. After the six-and-a-halfminute song, he would continue to perform on stage.
Were you disappointed by how quickly the public attention surrounding the allegations seemed to dissipate?
We received an enormous amount of attention for the first publications. However, when the public prosecutor’s office closed the investigation, many people got the impression that there was simply nothing to the allegations. The investigations were closed because no witnesses came forward. And we also have to make a clear distinction here: Our reports were about abuse of power, which is not a criminal offence. One of the women in the podcast also told us quite clearly, she didn’t say no [to Till Lindemann]. Because she was ‘starstruck.’ According to German law, this is not a criminal offence. But she is making a moral accusation. And she continues to do so, even though she has not made a statement to the public prosecutor’s office.
Why do fans often react so defensively towards these kinds of accusations–especially male ones?
I believe that we are learning more and more as a society. For example, about what abuse of power actually means and where abuse of power begins and what it actually is. I hope that our reporting can contribute towards this. But, fundamentally, sexist structures and ways of thinking are still very deep-rooted.
To what extent would you rate the podcast as a success? Were the reactions to it more positive or negative?
I rate our publications as a great success. The podcast was number 1 on the podcast charts for a long time and the reactions to it were extremely positive. I was especially pleased when people wrote to us or said that they finally understood exactly what the accusations were about and where abuse of power begins. And I'm pleased that many people have praised our sensitive interview style, which
always remained professionally distanced and managed to show the grey tones and nuances of the stories.
A big focus in the podcast is the idea of boundaries being overstepped: what measures are needed to prevent these kinds of violations in the future? Our job as journalists is to investigate and publicise abuses. We don’t have any influence on what society then makes of this work—nor should we, in my opinion. We are not activists. Society can and should discuss these topics. There are voices and NGOs calling for stricter laws. But there are also many lawyers who say that the laws are sufficient and that awareness instead needs to be raised among the population. Talking about it is really important.
Were you ever personally a fan of Rammstein? Is it still okay for people to listen to the band (or other artists facing similar accusations)? I knew the music, the aesthetics, and the ‘Rammstein phenomenon’—this band that is always provocative. I was never a Rammstein fan: I only went to a concert as part of my research, and came to understand the art of this band better. I think every fan has to decide for themselves whether they can separate the artist from their work. It's really difficult and I know the disappointment as a fan of other artists, too. It's sad when accusations are published that can't be reconciled with your own moral compass. There are definitely certain films I can no longer watch, and songs I can no longer listen to. At time of writing, there are several ongoing legal disputes between Lindemann and the media. Shelby Lynn’s case will also soon be heard in court. As such, there are certain limits to what those reporting on the story can and cannot say. But in any case, there are deeper quandaries which the Rammstein affairs raises: where the abuse of power begins, where we –as a society –place boundaries, and what happens when those boundaries are violated. Ultimately, none of these can be resolved in a courtroom. It requires a collective willingness to engage with these issues, which builds upon the dedicated work of those who bring these abuses to light.
Greetings From Utropiia
by Fergus Sinnott
A month or so ago, while I was going through customs after having flown from Dublin back to Melbourne, I became aware of something I hadn’t previously noticed.
There were two separate lines for passing through customs: at the end of one of them, border control attendants were stamping passports, discerning between business and pleasure; the other, a much larger line, was for border control consoles, collecting boarding passes and matching passport photos to biometric scans. The fact that so many people had opted for the automated procedure intrigued me—after all, the line for the consoles was moving slower than the first.
I realised that so many things on my trip had been automated: QR codes at restaurants in Dublin, self-serve kiosks at coffee shops in the boroughs of London. I passed the time before various connecting flights in airport bookshops, empty of customer service attendants, and bought lukewarm cups of coffee without lids from vending machines at DXB.
Much of my time on my phone is spent on Pinterest, gradually curating various boards from images displayed to me by my ever-evolving algorithm. It was on Pinterest that I first found out about Utropiia. From an image on Pinterest, more specifically: a sepia-toned portrait of a dirigible floating over a building redolent of the Plaza Hotel. The image caught my attention immediately. I followed the link from the Pin to a website, and fell down into a rabbit-hole of images, the likes of which I had never come across before. The website, www.utropiia. com, featured images and explanatory notes from the city of Utropiia, a “utopian city from a past that never was.” The images themselves, all of which had been generated by artificial intelligence, constructed an elaborate world of steampunk cosmopolitanism, where castles are built up over railway lines, airship is the predominant mode of travel, and Victorian-era fashion is in style all year round.
In the past year or so, no debate in the arts seems to have been so fraught as that of AI art and its ethics. On one hand, the technology’s integration into multiple industries speaks to its incredible capabilities and the expertise of its developers. On the other, AI’s automated production of artistic products poses a major threat to the talents artists cultivate in their chosen mediums. Furthermore, the production and dissemination of AI art has introduced new questions regarding the extent of its authorship and legal rights to intellectual property, given that generative AI art software such as DALL-E (visual
art) and Vocaloid (voice/singing) develops and refines its skills by onboarding a database of artists’ own work. The thesis statement of the Utropiia project is redolent of the thesis statement made by Mark Fisher in his landmark essay collection Ghosts of My Life: Writ ings on Depression, Hauntology and Lost Futures: that society, haunted by the absence of futures intoned by twentieth century enlightenment philosophers under the shadow of late-stage capitalism, is marked by feelings of nostalgia, disillusionment and artistic revivalism.
The images from Utropiia seem to me to be an incredibly astute use of AI’s generative technology to reflect ideas similar to Fisher’s. Steampunk is in and of itself a generic exercise in fashioning an alternate history, wherein the predominance of steam power in Victorian and Edwardian era industry and enterprise is enhanced by being integrated into various speculative fiction genres. The commitment of the website to its cosmopolitan worldbuilding, coupled with the hyperrealism of its AI generated portraiture, self-reflexively participate in the AI discourse that so concerns us now. The written descriptions of life in Utropiia that accompany many of the generated images also reflect the sense of disillusionment and foreboding that characterises city life in modernity. I often wonder whether the ongoing AI discourse places too much undue influence on the power of artificial intelligence, beyond its machine learning abilities. Like writer Joanna Maciejewska perfectly expressed, “I want AI to do my laundry and dishes so that I can do art and writing, not for AI to do my art and writing so that I can do my laundry and dishes.”
And regardless of to what extent the future of the creative process is in jeopardy in the coming years, it seems that the people of Utropiia have already begun to see the writing (or, the algorithm) on the wall: “It is undeniable these automata display intelligence, but whether they are actually conscious is a question that remains to be settled. While the Utropiian Life Co. maintains their behaviour is the result of a mimicry processes so complex that it merely possesses the outwardly indications of consciousness, many have come to believe that the behaviours these automata exhibit is more than programmatic formulas, arguing that ghosts have emerged in some of these machines.”
– From Utropiian Automata
You’ve Found Heaven, Now What?
by Jayden Alexander
You pray, begged and prayed, heart unchanged
Mere moments ago, you had found heaven. You doubted yourself at times—it couldn’t be true that heaven existed. You had heard about it from a friend of a friend, but that lifestyle was not yours. At least, you didn’t want to believe that it was. There were nights where you had gone and stood by the gates, hoping for a sign, for someone that would take you in. On others, you had stormed up to them, and right before you pushed, you would falter and turn back. You had prayed that He would turn you away, yet, there you were, beyond the gates of heaven.
Pack your bags, don’t look back
You remember returning to your parents, telling them of heaven. You remember how quickly they dismissed you. They believed it was just a passing phase, that you’d wake up from your reverie. But now that you knew of heaven, how could you ever return to your mundane life?
You walk alone into the darkest night
Stepping out of your parents’ door and into heaven, you were greeted with the sight of darkness that seemed to go on forever. There was no light to guide you past the gates, no map that marked where to go. From the shadows a cloaked man emerged, offering his hand. But something in your gut told you to run, so you did, speeding off into the night.
You’ll never get your momma’s wedding ring
You once thought finding heaven meant an instant happily ever after—an ending you’d only seen on screen. But no silver bells tolled here, not when there were no Prince Charmings to be found. And as the evening mist unfurled onto the pavement, you recognised the eerie semblance that heaven had—a mirror of the world below.
Don’t be scared little child, you’re no demon You felt distanced from those you saw in heaven. The curtain of perfection fell as soon as you entered the gates to find sinners and saints alike, all congregated. Some hunted the newly arrived, old men in disguises luring in the mangenue. You saw the cloaked man from before, vial in hand, ready to spike. You never expected heaven to be so
predatory. For a moment, you hoped that someone would guide you through it, but how could you trust them? A small part of you wished to have never entered heaven at all.
Your heart is breaking as you leave that door Stumbling as you left the pub, you turned to face the fading darkness. In the alleyway, stubs and bottles and needles littered the cobbled pathways. You realised that finding heaven had not erased the memories of hell that you survived. Everyone had found a way to cope here, but nobody said it had to be healthy. There were probably better ways to manage those memories, but some options were simply cheaper and faster; if it all worked the same, then why did it matter what people chose to do?
No God above us, can we repent this sin
In the depth of night, you had seen heaven for what it was. Yet, as daylight began to fill the streets, you felt a pang of empathy. You’d walked the same path and understood its struggles. Not all sins could be forgiven, but some deserved grace. It wasn’t like He was here to cast judgement, either. It was better this way, no benevolent God to criticise, no malevolent God to blame.
No soul is innocent, everybody wants to love
As you walked along the path, you spotted a fountain in the distance, a park bench next to it. There sat two lovers, clearly enamoured with each other. You looked around, greeted by others who were also gazing at the couple with the same longing and desire. A smile washed over your face. The sight had renewed you with hope—perhaps heaven wasn’t so bad after all.
You’re in love, you found heaven You felt disillusioned by the heaven you found; it was nothing like what you imagined. There was no love that greeted you at the gates, no safety at all. But the fountain was proof that it was possible. And hope began to take root in muddied waters of vulnerability and loneliness, a hope that one day, you too would find yourself on the park bench by the fountain. So you stayed, to live for the hope of it all.
Bridging The Distance: A Journey Back to Perth
by Megan Nicole Yin
I hadn't been back to Perth since 2022, which meant I hadn't stepped into my grandparents' house in years. With my family residing in the bustling, warm and small country of Singapore, Grandma and Grandpa would often visit us in June to escape the mediocre, cold down under. This semester break was different. Ever since starting university in Melbourne, I had been eagerly anticipating my first domestic flight back to Perth, the place I grew up calling my second home, as a third-culture kid. A strange mix of nervousness and excitement filled me as I embarked on the journey. This time, instead of welcoming Grandma and Grandpa to the balmy climes of Singapore, our family decided to visit Perth to celebrate Grandpa's 90th birthday in advance. Grandpa wasn't someone who liked his birthday celebrated—he feared it would remind him of his age. He would turn into a grumpy man if you would ask anything related to age. But reaching 90 was a milestone that needed to be commemorated, so we enthusiastically made our way to his doorstep.
Having said that, I had never been close to Grandpa. To be honest, it was hard to get close to him both physically and emotionally. Growing up about 4,000 kilometres away (according to Google) meant that I only got to see him once or twice a year. Despite the saying that “distance makes the heart grow fonder”, without common interests, every conversation would quickly turn into typical Asian family questions: “How are your university grades?” or “Why did you choose to study media instead of becoming a doctor or lawyer?” Grandpa never approved of journalists. He told me that news was nothing but advertising. However, I guess that only made me more determined to prove the importance of telling stories, and to be a voice for the voiceless.
It was nice seeing Grandpa looking lively just as two years ago, but somehow this visit felt different. At some point during the trip, I realised Grandpa was quieter and more distant than usual. He had not asked about my university grades, nor my career choice. One day as I was having a family lunch with Grandpa, I felt a stare from across the table. Behind his eyes, I sensed a hesitant choice of words.
“Megan, are you full or not?” he asked, his Singaporean accent evident. I nodded like a little kid,
assuring him I was. Then, surprisingly, he asked a series of questions about my university life: the number of friends I had made since I enrolled, and the amazingly talented people I had met through my Media and Communications course.
I could not help but feel a sense of pride. For once, our conversation was not about my grades or career choice. Instead, Grandpa seemed genuinely curious about my experiences. Since choosing the path of a journalist, it often felt like Grandpa was not interested in the stories I wrote, the people I interviewed, or the projects I poured my heart into. In contrast, he always seemed deeply engaged with my older sister’s work as she is working her way to pursue a master’s in psychology. His interest in her work was clear, and always left me to wonder if my work had ever truly captured his attention. It was at the end of this trip Grandma reminded me that Grandpa was one of the few in the family who believed I was not a slow learner, and that I had potential. Grandpa never expressed his thoughts to me other than openly discussing my career pathways. So it seemed that after all this time, our different perspectives created a perceived distance: Grandpa focused on the academic side of life for stability and pay, whereas I treasured the value of creativity and storytelling. I am not sure if I could ever gain Grandpa’s full understanding of why this path means so much to me. But intuitively grasping his subtle curiosity already made this trip feel gratifying beyond just a celebration of his 90th birthday. It has come to my realisation that while Grandpa is, and always will be someone who values the traditional measures of success, he has in fact been secretly looking after me in his own ways. This very moment feels almost like a turning point in our relationship—a chance for us to bridge the gap that distance and time had created. Although I cannot shorten the physical distance and flight hours between us, the emotional bond is what I can really cherish and strengthen. I am glad I got to realise this before it's too late. As I boarded the plane back to Melbourne, I felt a sense of contentment. I knew that no matter what, I had my grandfather’s respect and perhaps, in time, even his understanding through works I hope to publish.
Retiring the Olympic Dream
by Elizabeth Browne
Content warning: allusions to mental illness, drug use and suicide
As a former elite athlete who once competed in the Olympic trials myself, the Paris Olympics was a highly ambivalent event for me—one that I anticipated with both excitement and a strange sense of dread. It resurfaced a lot of the dormant gripes I had with elite sport, namely, the way it can truly supersede everything in your life. Your relationships, your livelihood, what you eat, how you sleep, what you do in your free time: everything, and I do mean everything, becomes punctured by something you once started for fun.
I’ll be the first to admit that in my almost 15 year sporting career, I was never the best, or really even that close to it—big competitions like the Olympics were never quite on the cards for me and I was always cognisant of that. For some reason, I never quite had that singular, insatiable desire for athletic glory that seemed to propel my Olympic and World Champion teammates to greatness. Elite sport was never something I was entirely passionate about—it felt more like something I fell into. But when you’re twelve years old and a coach in a fancy uniform approaches you promising Olympic glory, it’s near impossible to say no.
I started off in elite gymnastics at around five years old before switching over to platform diving at eleven. By fourteen, I was training 25 hours a week under scholarship with the Victorian Institute of Sport (VIS). At the peak of my career, I placed sixth overall in the Australian National qualifier for the World Championships and was the twotime Australian Elite National Champion for my age group. When you look at an athlete, you may see one person. But you are actually looking at the highly manicured product of dozens of support staff. If an athlete is not sleeping well, they will be sent to a lab to have their sleeping patterns monitored by scientists. If they are not eating well, they will have their diet dissected calorie by calorie by a dietitian. Even as a somewhat mediocre sportsperson, I had countless professionals available to me—coaches, doctors, physios, psychologists, dietitians, masseuses, lifestyle managers, sports scientists, etc. And when one person has dozens of people servicing their needs for decades, the boundaries between individual and sport blur. Athletes subconsciously learn that sport makes them deserving of attention, time and effort, that their athletic prowess makes them uniquely ‘special’ and is something to cling to at all costs. Whether they realise this or not, it is a lesson sport teaches them and one that is especially
hard to unlearn. At the very least, this is my experience. So what happens to an athlete’s identity when they inevitably retire? If sport is the axis upon which their world spun, their world will certainly topple upon its removal. In 2021, the International Olympic Committee published a report citing that 45% of elite athletes suffer from anxiety and depression following retirement—although, I anecdotally suspect that this number is higher. Michael Phelps, the most decorated Olympian of all time has openly spoken about his struggle with depression and suicidality after temporarily retiring in 2012. Matthew Mitcham, an Olympic gold medallist, has opened up about his battle with drug addiction and mental health following his “post-Games comedown.” This issue of athleticism and mental health has recently resurfaced following Simone Biles’ withdrawal from the 2020 Tokyo Olympics due to a mental block. While many supported her decision, she also faced an onslaught of abuse from critics who could not possibly fathom her existence outside gymnastics. With sport, Biles was a national icon. Without sport, she was a “national embarrassment” and her mental ill-health a “joke…the go-to excuse for any poor performance in elite sport.” It is disappointing, but not surprising, to see how rapidly her perceived worth deteriorated when she was even temporarily severed from her sport. The tide is turning on sport and mental health. But I’m still cynical. Elite sport gave me so much but it also took so, so much. Improving mental health in sport requires better post-retirement support and a more holistic approach to athlete management—when sport is taken away, who are they? Rather than labelling pursuits such as education as a ‘distraction,’ sporting institutions need to aid athletes in building relationships, careers, and fulfilling hobbies outside of sport. If elite sport is to be a worthwhile venture, the culture needs to radically transform so it is something sportspeople choose to do, rather than something they feel they have to do because they have nothing else. Sport, like any other job or hobby, should be a part of life, not a substitute for it. The responsibility for helping athletes realise this lies in the hands of the national sporting institutions who manage the many Olympians we look up to.
We Are Not Teaching Empathy
by Chiaki Chng
‘This subject teaches you life skills’, seems to be the goto line for many English tutors and teachers to reluctant VCE kids. As a member of that former group, I’ve recently been prompted to ponder the promises of analytical skills, communication skills, media literacy skills and empathy skills, glimmering beyond the study design’s horizon. This year, a change in the English curriculum saw the addition of a ‘crafting texts’ unit, which asked students to write about themes of conflict, protest and connection to country in creative writing form. The students I tutored were encouraged to research different protest events in history and write from fictional perspectives of the people involved. Initially it appeared as a productive change from a largely literature-based curriculum removed from any real-life applications. By placing greater emphasis on real world issues through creative writing, students are forced to comprehensively engage with politics and society. However, it was when I had to actually teach the unit, that I started to feel a bit off about it. It would certainly be unfair to claim that high school students don’t care about world issues (it would also be untrue). Instead, the problem lies with the gamified structure of VCE, inevitably pushing kids to funnel their learning into study score points, filling as many rubric boxes as possible to optimise study scores. Students writing pieces about overseas issues may adopt racist accents to fulfil ‘character voice’ points. Serious events are aestheticised and romanticised—reduced to scenes and themes for students to exploit in their pretend-speeches and narratives.
It bears similarities to critiques of the American college application letter—a pervading notion pressuring applicants into sharing their suffering for compelling backstories (trauma porn).
My friend Shriya, a first-year student at UC Berkeley, recounts social media being a factor influencing approaches to admissions essays:
“There’s the aspect of it that’s the dissemination of information—there are a million-and-one TikTok tutors now, who will guide you through every aspect of the admissions process; oftentimes, I have heard them explain that a well-written explanation of hardship can redeem a poor GPA or a lack of extracurriculars.
But then there’s the other aspect of it,
ration porn territory. A lot of people heard that essay about the letter ‘S,’ where this lovely girl talks very sincerely about not having both of her parents around, and how arduous that was for her throughout her childhood. Unfortunately, I think that a lot of people seized onto the appeal of the ‘sob story’—and the plethora of acceptances she received after sending out that essay—and have started milking every aspect of their lives to create this pity-laden narrative for their college applications.”
Interestingly, she tells me about the “flip side of this… when students who really haven’t struggled try their hardest to wrangle themselves into a sob story”:
“I grew up in a rather affluent, fairly white community—which is not to say that everyone’s life is perfect, but rather to say that I saw a lot of kids with perfect lives capitalise off of the fact that other people’s weren’t. As in—I’m wealthy, but this experience made me realise how the other half lives. (Eyeroll). This was when I realised racism existed for the first time. I built a home in Haiti. I went on a mission trip to Tijuana. I knitted a billion socks for the NICU. I played violin at the senior citizens’ home. If they didn’t have their own trauma, they often resorted to capitalising off of others. I’m not saying that they were necessarily terrible people for having done that, but I think the paradigm that forces 17-year-olds into this dramatisation of their life stories is, indeed, a pretty terrible one.” It’s strikingly apparent that local study design changes move in the same exploitative trajectory, considering the instructions don’t include anything that could possibly prevent it. Despite the categories ‘Country’ and ‘Protest’ being inherent to the experiences of marginalised groups and individuals, there’s no section warning educators about cultural sensitivity. The way we’ve seen the curriculum being interpreted makes us realise how easily assessments could fall into the trap of telling students to ‘pick the most tragic incident you’ve heard of… now pick a victim to imagine being.’ Not only does it sensationalise the suffering of others, it waters down the integrity and political dynamics of these events and experiences. From my experience, students possess an all-encompassing self-awareness regarding their roles in the VCE rat race—or so they’d like to think. We’d like to think that from this new unit, they’d be learning new skills, and possibly opening their minds, but if they are, it’s definitely not from pretending to learn empathy.
The Bard, Brunswick, and the Bitter Joys of Australian Coffee
by Claire Le Blond
Almost every uni student can relate to the experience of chugging a heavily caffeinated beverage in the aims of completing an assignment. Hell’s wounds, I myself have indulged. Potion of induced stupors, whatever your beverage of choice there’s something to be drunk. Alas, William himself never (or was, at minimum, unlikely to have) tried the glorious, resplendent, decadent, lifesaving elixir that has come to be an integral part of Australian culture, and certainly not in Melbourne, the coffee capital of the world. Shakespeare in Melbourne must be introduced to coffee. Tis’ essential. I shudder to think about how, if he had pulled an all-nighter for the writing of his plays, he would have, as the kids say, “raw-dogged it”. Claire: William, what would your equivalent of raw-dog be?
William: So one hath borne the vice and wit sans sheathe.
Fuck’s sake mate, you’re too poetic for your own good. Anyways, to introduce William to all the different types of coffee on offer, I’ve taken him somewhere both indie and hip, gentrified and down-and-out, nouveau-vague and so old-school: Brunswick. Does it have the best coffee in Melbourne? No clue. I moved to Melbourne from damnèd Sydney, and I live South of the Yarra (if you know where, reader, don’t you dare dox me). Frankly, I’ve taken William to Brunswick because it’s walking distance from UniMelb, and I’m really not in the mood to explain to a Myki inspector why this strange man from the 1590s doesn’t have a concession pass on his person. Latte
To start us off, a classic. Some may say basic. Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day? Thou art more lovely and intemperate than the four seasons in a day that comes from living in this city. I find the latte a suitable introduction for dear William. This beverage is… rich. In what pray tell? I know not. Upon my lips, the liquid startles. It is delicate and heavy, the weight of bittersweet craft rest
ing within me. BY my troth, I endeavour to make further acquaintance of this sumptuous offering.
Cappuccino
I’m not one for sweet drinks, but the real glory of the cappuccino is in the foam; if your barista knows your stuff, the foam just hits you in the face. Pray tell, why is there tree bark on the top? That is very obviously chocolate… oh hang on, you didn’t have that back then either did you? *unintelligible 1590s man eats chocolate for the first time sounds*
Mate, I know you’re an old fart but you weren’t invented after table manners, close your damn mouth.
My apologies…
Flat White
The real true blue Aussie classic. In fact, the flat white is an Australian invention. If I’m at a café other than my own, my go-to is a strong flat white. You just can’t go wrong with it.
In faith, it does not please me.
You sick bastard.
How dare you, I nary had plague nor malady in threeand-twenty years!
Yeah nah, Will, I call bull—
Why you—
Long Black
Also quite an Australian drink. I love it myself, especially with a dash of milk. How does it measure? What leagues could such a beverage be expanded upon? In truth, how doth one make their mark of it?
It’s a long black, dear William, it’s really not that serious. You jest.
I never jest.
(dear reader, I think you know I always jest.)
Americano
To be polite, I prefer a long black. Not much else to say here really.
God’s wounds! This vile beverage brings forth nothing
but rancour!
Affogato
I’ve never actually had an affogato. So I’ll shut my mouth for this one. Decadence at last!
Did I not just take you to Yah-Yah’s in Edition 3? Decadence!
Magic
When I’m working, I usually craft myself a macadamia milk magic with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top, and closer to five-sixths full than three-quarters. So, in other words, a bastard order that no self-respecting barista would make. Thankfully, this is a purely hypothetical café, and I’m entitled to order whatever I want. Will, I’m getting a magic. It’s bitter, thin and utterly magical. What are your thoughts?
Magic? Sorcery? Witch? Avast, a reckoning, a burning upon thee and— William, we’ve been through this. Executions are so last century.
Rats.
I thought you liked witches?
That is a sincerely reductionist take on the matter. They serve as a narrative device of the utmost efficacy. Under the reign of my most gracious majesties however— Bill. The coffee?
…
The beverage is of the utmost brilliance.
Bloody hell. We’ve had enough caffeine to kill a horse.
Forsooth fair Le Blond. That would be the other substance, the humble ketamine. The noble ket of me’en, if you will. What? How on earth do you know what ketamine is? I must confess, the gentlemen’s taverns in the land of Fitzroy gave me very many introductions. It really quite enhanced my pleasure with the bears and— William, please. Not in the Farrago article.
The “Chasing That Feeling” Diaries
Life is Not a Fairy Tale
by Lani Jaye
“Aren’t you supposed to be at Nina’s party right now?”
Sinking himself to the bathtub full of balloons, Jun Choi let out a sigh, as though he had been holding in his breath and enduring the coldest winter winds for the last twenty years. Hearing Hawon’s voice put him at ease.
“I am at her party,” he said, a smile finding its way to his face.
Jun would rarely video call Hawon or Taerin. The introverts in them had silently agreed that texting worked best, unless it was more convenient otherwise. On top of that, they barely had time anymore to text, let alone call. So when Hawon looked concerned from the opposite hemisphere through the screen of his phone, it was because Jun had straight up pressed the video call option instead of texting.
“You drunk?”
“No?”
“That’s exactly what a drunk man in a bathtub would say.”
Jun made a face at his friend’s comment. “Hey! At least I don’t get drunk seven days a week like Taerin,” he protested. He was lucky Taerin wasn’t online at the moment, or she would have given him the nastiest side-eye.
This made Hawon laugh. “Okay,” he said, “what’s wrong, then?”
Jun pulled his gaze towards the bathroom door, where he could hear the muffled music beneath the sounds of people chatting and laughing. He could also hear the distant sound of a group playing UNO. Nina was Jun’s
one extrovert friend—she knew quite literally everyone and their mom. Which is why there were currently around thirty people in her house. Usually, Jun would find this amount of people intimidating. But Nina’s parties felt different. He’d been to two of them so far over a year and a half. Walking into Nina’s house felt like being embraced by the homeliness of the crackling hearth, the soft fabric of her green cardigan, the scent of lit lemongrass candles on the kitchen counter, like the feeling of her warm hands that kept him safe and secure from the wintery breath of July. Her house felt like home, no matter how many people were inside. Jun loved being there, being with her friends. Being one of her friends. Jun loved it all.
“You feel left out again?” Hawon asked, which made Jun realise that he had zoned out for a while.
He shook his head. Hawon waited for him to proceed. “Hawon, I’m really happy here,” Jun confessed. “Before leaving Daegu for the first time, I made a list of things I hoped I would find. And one of them was to make myself friends. I call them my comfort crowd. In my head, I expected it to be just a three-person group. But I have so many friends now—way more than I expected. Yes, maybe I can’t always be their first choice, but I guess that’s okay. Because I am loved, I feel so loved! “As cliché as it sounds, I almost, almost feel like the main character in a book or something. For the first time in my life I finally feel independent and get to make choices for myself.” He paused for a moment to read Hawon’s expressions. He was listening intently. “Hawon, I could give a list of reasons for me not to go back to Daegu. But I’m really afraid that someone else’s decision could force me out of this home I’ve made for myself.”
“Someone else?”
“The people who get to make the final decisions about whether you get to stay or not. I can’t live here forever with a student visa. There’s so much I need to do before I can stay permanently, and I have to fight my way through it even if it means being burnt out by the end of it. And the final decision depends on the authorities’ approval. Having to anticipate all of it makes me anxious,” he sighed. “Welcoming country, my ass. Just give me my café by the beach.”
Hawon nodded his head, taking in every word. Jun paused for a moment.
“If things don't go the way I want, my last resort is monk life,” he said half-heartedly. “Because if my mental health is so bad that I'm so close to giving up, I might as well let go of things first.”
“I am legit considering that option,” agreed Hawon.
Jun smiled faintly. “I think moving here and starting anew really humbled me; it made me realise that life is not entirely a fairy tale. It just goes on. But I really don’t want this chapter of my life to end.” He laughed. “And I’m still longing for things I thought I was ready to leave.”
“Like what?”
Jun pursed his lips, not feeling confident enough to utter the words out loud. But maybe, just maybe, Hawon was right, and he was a bit tipsy. “I want a hug from my mom, bro.”
The muffled sounds from behind the door felt distant and distant and more distant as the tipsy and anxious part of him lingered on the need for his mother’s hug. He missed her. It’s been half a year.
There was silence from Hawon’s side of the line. After what felt like the longest five minutes of his life, he heard Hawon speak. It was a whisper, ever so soft and gentle, but Jun’s heart skipped two beats as he heard it.
It had been a while since someone had called him by his legal name. For the last year and a half, he had only introduced himself with it during class, so his tutors could mark his attendance. He’d grown so used to going by “Jun”—this confident, independent version of himself, to the point he’d almost forgotten the feeling of being the person he was before he gave “Jun” life.
It hit ten times different when it was Hawon calling him by his name. He felt the tug of an older home—a home where he would always be welcomed, a home which he didn’t have to second guess himself to walk in. A home he was the most familiar with, regardless of distance.
He smiled at Hawon, sinking deeper into the tub of balloons. “We’ll be okay, yeah?” Jun asked, not expecting any promises.
Hawon smiled. “We’ll be okay.”
Omnis-phóbos (or) the fear of all:
Mycophobia, the fear of fungi and mushrooms
by Wildes Lawler
truffle hounds
And they smell me out when I want to be six-feet deep. The sky splinters from its sleep, into dawn-shades. The fawns too will splinter under the whiff of gun-powder. But today the hounds run for me. They smell me out from mounds and cliffs long away. I am small and dark, in a small, dark place; sporous thoughts drifting in and out to spawn more and more and even the worms breathe them in I hear the digging. The hard gravel above splits and I no longer belong to myself. I am robbed, then shaven—my thoughts no longer belong to me
of sixteen to become the youngest ruler yet. In thanks he sent her off to sea, but fixed the ship to sink and split. Death came and capsized her. Then again, Claudius was death cap-sized.
by Stephen Zavitsanos
by Lara Prust
FARRATOGRAPHY
Hey all!
On behalf of the Farratography team, we would like to extend our heartfelt thanks to everyone who has supported our work throughout this remarkable year. Your engagement—whether through joining our team as a photographer, submitting your photos to Farrago Magazine, or attending and participating in our events—has been instrumental in fostering a vibrant and creative community.
We would like to extend special thanks to those who submitted their work to our annual exhibition, the highlight of this year's efforts. Your contributions were the cornerstone of this event, and we hope that you enjoyed seeing your art displayed as much as we appreciated curating it.
We are deeply grateful for the passion, creativity and dedication you have shared with us. We sincerely hope that you will continue to participate in future Farratography and Farrago events, using these platforms to express yourself in the most meaningful ways.
Thank you once again for making this year unforgettable. We look forward to seeing you at our future events and exhibitions.
Warm regards, Stephen & Irene.
EDITOR’S CHOICE AWARD
PEOPLE’S CHOICE AWARD
‘Ever Seen Such
an ambitious feat... an event that will go down in history... myths will be borne from radiothon...
72 hours of straight radio people perished... lives lost... heroes rose... welcome to radio fodder thon 2024
radio fodder screenprinting workshops hosted by Lauren Williams and Troppo Print Studio
the Brokebacks? (minus Harrison George)
radio fodder screenprinting workshops hosted by Lauren Williams Studio the Brokebacks? (minus Harrison George)
/ FARRAGO 2024 / EDITION 5
very cool sign made by Tom Weir-Alacon survived the first night! live evidence of David Surace chickening out and doing his 2am set from home 5:30... 6:45... 7:27... 8:12... 9:38... 10:54... 11:32... 12:19... 1:06... and fodderthon continues through the night... by Kien-Ling Liem
UMSU and the Media Office are located in the city of Melbourne, on the land of the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin Nation. We pay respects to their elders past and present and acknowledge that the land we are on was stolen and sovereignty was never ceded.