Grapeshot Magazine | 'Bodies' by Grapeshot Magazine

ISSUE 5: BODIES

CAMPUS NEWS & LIFE | ARTS & CULTURE | STYLE & SUSTAINABILITY | REVIEWS | & MORE

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WATSON CALENDAR JULY/AUGUST MONDAY

O WEEK BEGINS

TUESDAY

O WEEK EVENTS

WEDNESDAY

O WEEK EVENTS The King Khan & BBQ Show @ OAF 8pm

THURSDAY

O WEEK EVENTS Florence & the Machine @ State Theatre 8pm

COMMENCEMENT OF SESSION 2 The Wombats @ Enmore Theatre 8pm

Best Coast @ OAF 8pm

UBAR Comedy Night (Ugly Sweater theme)

New South Wales Bank Holiday

RSPCA Cupcake Day

Culturally Themed Brunch 10:30am hosted by Campus Engagement

Hiatus Kaiyote @ Metro Theatre 8pm

FRIDAY

SATURDAY

SUNDAY

PAYMENT DUE DATE FOR SESSION 2 (IF APPLICABLE) ‘Fringe’ submission deadline

LAST DATE TO ADD EXT UNIT(S) TO YOUR PROGRAM

Jeans for Genes Day LAST DATE TO ADD INT UNIT(S) TO YOUR PROGRAM

World Record Stargazing @ MQU Astronomical Observatory 7pm

Ronny Chieng @ Enmore Threatre 9pm

LAST DATE TO WITHDRAW FROM WINTER UNITS WITHOUT ACADEMIC PENALTY

One Day Sundays @ The Factory Theatre 1pm

Do you have an upcoming event? Let us know and we’ll do our best to include it in our calendar. Email grapeshot@mq.edu.au

EDITOR’S LETTER SARAH BASFORD

Welcome y’all to a brand new semmy (semester for those not privvy) at Macquarie. We’ve mustered up a nice, little collection of juicy bites about all things ‘bodies’ for your indulgence. We really didn’t want to limit ourselves by omitting the gritty, moist details of issues and actions that most of us deal with on the daily; so you’ll be able to read all about things squishy and squirmy.

We challenged one of our victims editors to take on the moon cup (p. 20), but it isn’t all fun and games. We’ve delved into the illegal organ trade (p. 10) and discussed the media’s response to Caitlyn Jenner’s public transition (p. 12). We examined Sydney’s illegal brothel scene and the battle with local councils (p. 24) while revealing a blind lady’s ability to see the world around her (p. 30). So, sit down and cosy up to yourself with these crisp, new pages of titillating information and bodily fluids. Go on, get juicy with it.

EDITORIAL & CREATIVE PRODUCTION EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Sarah Basford DEPUTY EDITOR Regina Featherstone FEATURES EDITOR Jack Cameron Stanton NEWS EDITOR Anna Glen REGULARS EDITOR Vanessa Capito GUEST COPY EDITOR Claire Catacouzinos WEB EDITOR Raelee Lancaster EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS Nicholas Wasiliev & Aswathi Neelakandan CREATIVE DIRECTOR Natasha Michels GRAPHIC DESIGNER Samuel Ip MARKETING TEAM MARKETING MANAGER Joanna Marciniak

Proud mum and daughter moment. Left: Regina. Right: Sarah.

DEPUTY EDITOR’S LETTER

REGINA FEATHERSTONE Well, Sez already summed most of it up but I think she forgot one crucial thing for ‘Bodies’; the lyrical masterpiece and smooth jams of Mariah Carey’s ‘Touch my Body’. For your pleasure: ‘Touch my body Put me on the floor Wrestle me around Play with me some more

Touch my body Throw me on the bed I just wanna make you feel Like you never did. Touch my body Let me wrap my thighs All around your waist Just a little taste Touch my body Know you love my curves Come on and give me what I deserve And touch my body’

OUR AWESOME CONTRIBUTORS Kawsar Ali, Calvin Cheater, Nixon Chua, Cameron Colwell, Nathan Falzon, Kathleen Freeman, Patricia Grigoriou, Toby Hemmings, Tamana Mirz, Adrian Nguyen, Jon Papadopoulo, Alicia Scott, Rowan Taylor, Phillip Witheridge EDITORIAL REVIEW BOARD STUDENT MEMBERS Emma Grimley, Jack Morgan, Jacob Rock, Kris Gilmour, Natalie Morton, Patrick Barkachi, Sarah Cameron, Yi Wong COORDINATOR Melroy Rodrigues PUBLISHER Craig Oliver

Grapeshot would like to acknowledge the Darug people as the traditional custodians of the land on which we work, and pay our respects to their elders, past and present.

ISSUE 5: BODIES

CONTENTS 7 NEWS

15 REGULARS

23 FEATURES

35 CREATIVE

8 NEWS FLASH

16 Q & A WITH JOSH PYKE

24 A GLIMPSE INTO THE

36 WARM DARK STONES

10 BODY PARTS FOR SALE

18 SYDNEY WRITERS

DARKNESS

40 THIS FAMOUS AUTHOR I

12 CAITLYN JENNER

FESTIAL: NOT AN EVENT

26 STRAIGHT UNTIL

LIKE AGREED TO MEET UP

13 MAN OR MONKEY?

BUT AN EXPERIENCE

PROVEN INNOCENT

WITH ME ON A THURSDAY

14 MELBOURNE CLINIC

19 DOES AUSTRALIA CARE

28 KEEP THINKING THAT

EVENING FOR SOME

TAKES COUNCIL TO COURT

ABOUT HUMAN RIGHTS?

WAY AND YOU’LL SWALLOW DRINKS...

OVER ANTI-ABORTION

20 OVER THE MOON CUP

US WHOLE, I PROMISE

PROTESTORS

30 SEEING SOUNDS 32 TAKING THE JAB

43 REPEAT OFFENDERS 44 THE STEW 46 REVIEWS 50 HOROSCOPES 51 CROSSWORD

MISSED SOMETHING AT ORIENTATION?

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Macquarie University Law Society magazine Edition 1, 2015 (Volume 21)

onnolwine S BE ST AC C ES S AU ST RA LI A’ IC AT IO N LAW ST UD EN T PU BL AN YT IM E, AN YW HE RE

6 || News

Edition 1, 2015 | 1

www.facebook.com/ thebriefmagazine

www.issuu.com/muls

www.muls.org

NEWS

Features || 7

NEWS FLASH WORDS || ANNA GLEN & REGINA FEATHERSTONE

TWO DEGREES RESCINDED AFTER MYMASTER SCANDAL The degrees of two Maquarie University students have been rescinded for their use of the essay writing website, MyMaster, to hand in forged assessments. This deceitful behaviour was exposed last year by Sydney Morning Herald. This incident is the first time Macquarie University has resorted to the severe measure, though it is not an uncommon practice at other universities. The decision to rescind the degrees was not intended to be punitive but rather, was done to ensure Macquarie graduates are qualified to enter the workforce. Legally, the University could be held accountable if the students were to act negligently in the workplace and the university was aware that they were not qualified. The students in question are welcome to return to the university and complete the units they failed after being found using the ghost writing website. Other students involved in the scandal who had not yet graduated have also been required to repeat their units and take part in an academic integrity course.

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CUBA AND THE USA TO RECONNECT ON 20 JULY For the first time in fifty-four years, Cuba and the USA will re-establish their international diplomatic ties by opening embassies in Washington and Havana on 20 July. This move comes after the USA had banned relations with Cuba during the peak of tensions during the Cold War. No less than ten Presidents of the USA have maintained the freeze, despite various political changes around the world and the fall of the Soviet Union in the early 90s. Cuban President, Raúl Castro, met with Barack Obama at the Summit of the Americas in late June to begin talks of reconnection. This was the first time Cuba had been invited to the Summit. Presidents Obama and Castro spoke about the differences between the long-feuding countries and while trying to overcome many issues, on some topics, Castro said they would have to “agree to disagree”. Barack Obama said, “It hasn’t worked for fifty years. It shuts America out of Cuba’s future, and it only makes life worse for the Cuban people.” Castro will send Foreign Minister, Bruno Rodriguez, to the Cuban Embassy opening in Washington while it is likely US Secretary of State, John Kerry, will attend the event in Havana.

LGBTI WEBSITE LAUNCHED TO ASSESS INCLUSIVE POLICIES AT AUSTRALIAN UNIVERSITIES In May this year, Human Rights Commissioner, Tim Wilson, launched the LGBTI University Guide aimed at assessing inclusive policies concerning the LGBTQIA+ community at Australian universities. Wilson said the guide was an important step for ensuring that universities are “safer, more inclusive places for LGBTI people”. However, the guide also showed that many universities provide services for certain groups, while excluding others . Justin Koonin from the NSW Gay and Lesbian Rights lobby revealed “support for lesbian, gay, [and] bisexual students is further along than support for trans and intersex students”.

ONLINE EDUCATION PAVES WAY FOR GREATER INCLUSION

A report conducted by Open Universities Australia (OUA) has found that students enrolled in online courses are often the first in the family to attend university. A total of 67.7 per cent of students taking online courses are “first in family” enrolments, two thirds of them will also be female, and over one third will be mature age. Dr. Cathy Stone, who established Student Success services at OUA, said the online delivery of tertiary education eliminates elitism from the university system, Indeed the guide reveals that Macquarie stating “online learning is removing barriers for University has policies for lesbian, gay, trans people who would traditionally have not gone to and bisexual people, but not intersex people. university.” It also notes that the University does not have health policies for trans and intersex people. To The most popular tertiary courses were in address this problem, the Student Advisory Board education, arts and humanities, and business. at Macquarie unanimously passed a motion in April to have gender-neutral toilets installed near QueerSpace, with a sub-committee established to see the plan implemented. The LGBTI Guide can be accessed at: http://lgbtiuniguide.org.au/.

NEWS || 9

BODY PARTS FOR SALE WOULD YOU SELL YOUR KIDNEY FOR $50 000 DOLLARS? WORDS || PATRICIA GRIGORIOU

With 16.1 donors per million people, Australia has one of the lowest organ donation rates in the world, with more than twenty other countries hosting higher rates. Currently, Spain is the world leader in organ donation, with thirty-six donors per million people.

DonateLife Week 2015, which will run from 2 to 9 August, is a concerted attempt to get people to talk to their families about the decision to be an organ donor, and ensure that “your family [knows] your donation decision” and “you know theirs”.

Despite over $250 million dollars being invested into organ donation programs since 2008, improvements have been slow, raising questions surrounding the effectiveness of existing organ donation and transplantation initiatives.

Proposals have been raised by politicians, policymakers and transplant advocates to change veto laws in order to make the possibility of families vetoing a potential donor’s expressed wish to donate their organs impossible.

On 2 June 2015, Assistant Minister for Health, Fiona Nash, announced a review of Australia’s tissue and organ transplantation program would be conducted in an attempt to improve organ donation rates. In Australia, veto rules pose one of the greatest barriers to organ donation. Under current legislation, an individual’s wish to donate following death can be rejected by relatives. In 2014, family refusals prevented thiry-eight per cent of “potential donations proceeding.”

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Legalising organ trade may also provide a solution to Australia’s low organ donation rates. Currently, buying and selling organs in Australia is illegal. It carries a six-month jail sentence and/ or a fine of up to $4 400. Though the likelihood of legalisation is highly unlikely in Australia, the possibility of establishing a market for organs and providing compensation to people who give their organs may encourage individuals to sign up as potential donors. The use of financial incentives in countries

such as Iran, shows that the legalisation of buying and selling kidneys has successfully reduced organ shortages. The chairman of the Renal Transplant Advisory Committee, Scott Campbell, is unconvinced and warns about the use of financial incentives to encourage organ donation. He says that “trading in organs would exploit the poor, the desperate, and could put donors and recipients lives at risk.” However, low donation rates means some desperate Australians turn to other countries, such as India and China, for organs where a thriving black market exists. In an impoverished Indian town called Bindol – known colloquially as the “kidney village” – every second home has sold a kidney to escape starvation. In China, there are reports of prisoners’ organs being removed while they are still alive. It seems either way, the organ trade will be tarnished by exploitation.

“We’ve tried everything to drum up support for organ donation and the rates have not risen in ten years. People just don’t seem willing to give their organs away for free,” Carney says. Organ donation is often an overwhelming and arduous process. It has been suggested that implementing initiatives, and emphasising the improvement of organisational practices and end-of-life care in hospitals, may increase donation rates. Head of the National Transplant Organisation of Spain, Rafael Matesanz says, “We never blame the population. If people donate less, it must be something we have done wrong.” As Australia’s population ages, the issue of organ donation is imperative. The lifechanging implications of donations should not be forgotten – one organ and tissue donor can transform the lives of ten or more people.

Senior Canberra nephrologist, Gavin Carney, supports the use of regulated financial incentives to encourage greater organ donation. He suggests that young, healthy people should be allowed to sell their kidneys to the Federal Government for $50 000 in order to help sick patients.

NEWS || 11

CAITLYN JENNER: MEDIA PRESENTS SANITISED STORY OF TRANSGENDERISM WORDS || ALICIA SCOTT American magazine Vanity Fair has assisted in the reveal of Caitlyn Jenner’s true gender identity as a transgender woman. Famous for being a former Olympic athlete and parent of the two Jenner daughters (Kendall and Kylie), Caitlyn’s cover shot on the magazine’s July instalment brought her instant media coverage. Yet the media frenzy surrounding Caitlyn’s transition exposed a general lack of understanding of transgender issues in society. While Caitlyn’s media exposure was a positive step in creating greater awareness of transgender people, her glamorous experience in the celebrity spotlight could not be further from the harsh realities of many transgender people. Words such as ‘bold’ and ‘courageous’ were used to describe Caitlyn’s transition as a successful celebrity, when most transgender people struggle with institutional discrimination and ongoing hardship behind closed doors. Caitlyn’s status of celebrity wealth is what sets her apart from many other transgender people. Although Caitlyn’s male to female gender transition may seem like a straightforward and accessible process, the reality is many transgender people are unable to afford the expensive surgery, testosterone or estrogen hormone replacements, and makeup or fashion artists to comply

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with society’s strict gender roles. ‘Facial feminisation’ surgery alone costs roughly $35 000 US dollars. Caitlyn’s feminine shot on the cover of Vanity Fair also reinforces the constant pressure transgender people face to ‘pass’ as either male or female in order to be accepted in society. What is not shown in the glamourous image is the years of treatments and struggle that Caitlyn has gone through. Further, it is an unfortunate reality for supporters of Caitlyn Jenner’s coming out to be confronted with the high rates of mental illness and suicide amongst transgender teens, who are often ostracised by friends or family for not complying with the gender they were assigned at birth. In her interview with Diane Sawyer, Caitlyn discussed the years of mental illness and feelings of alienation throughout her life. However, when we look to her cover of Vanity Fair, those issues are left waiting in the wings, as we focus on her now, feminine beauty. Her transition is well documented by interviews, covers, and the show I am Cait, but whether or not she truly represents the transitioning journey is questionable. Her wealth and fame separates her physical transformation from other transgender people, but doesn’t detract from her ability to inspire change.

MAN OR MONKEY? NEW YORK COURT GIVES APES WRIT FOR HABEAS CORPUS WORDS || TOBY HEMMINGS

Two chimpanzees are before the Manhattan Supreme Court in a case to determine if nonhuman animals can be defined legally as ‘people’. Hercules and Leo are currently in the custody of Stony Brook University, but not for much longer if the case mounted by animal law expert Steven Wise and the Nonhuman Rights Project is successful. On 21 April, Justice Barbara Jaffe issued an order to show cause and writ of habeas corpus in regards to the apes. Habeas corpus is a Latin term that roughly translates to ‘you should have the body’, meaning the custodian must prove to the court they can credibly detain the prisoner. In this case, the prisoners are the chimpanzees and the custodian is the

university. As it stands, habeas corpus only applies to people. The Nonhuman Rights Project argues that chimpanzees have the complex cognitive processes necessary to be considered as legal persons under law. They plan to mount cases in regards to other intelligent creatures including elephants, dolphins, and whales. Steven Wise, President of the Nonhuman Rights Project, believes they aren’t trying to give human rights to animals. Instead, they’re trying to instate ‘chimpanzee rights’ for chimpanzees and ‘elephant rights’ for elephants, and so on. These actions attempt to better protect these creatures under law and remove them from the broad legal category of ‘things’.

News || 13

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE DEATHS CONTINUE AS GOVERNMENT INTRODUCES MEANS TESTS FOR VICTIMS IN NEED OF LEGAL HELP WORDS || KATHLEEN FREEMAN

After new measures announced in the Federal Government’s May 2015 budget, victims of domestic violence seeking legal assistance will now be subject to means testing. Australian of the Year and domestic violence campaigner, Rosie Batty, said the decision shows the Government is “far removed from reality” Though the exact nature of the testing is yet to be determined, means testing combines details of income and assets such as salary, investments, superannuation, equity, amongst other categories. This plan disregards the fact that financial abuse is one the key issues

concerning domestic violence. So far in 2015, over forty Australian women have died as a result of domestic violence. The Victorian executive officer of Community Legal Centres, Liana Buchanan, made the point that many women who are subject to domestic violence are not able to safely access the necessary records of family funds. With an already failing system and the suffering of many victims going unnoticed, means testing will only escalate an already alarming community issue.

MELBOURNE CLINIC TAKES COUNCIL TO COURT OVER ANTI-ABORTION PROTESTORS WORDS || ASWATHI NEELAKANDAN

A Fertility Control Clinic in East Melbourne has made a nuisance claim against the Melbourne City Council for failing to prevent anti-abortion activists protesting outside their health center. Anti-abortion protestors known as ‘Helper’s of God’s Precious Infants’ have been accused of harassing patients and staff by blocking entry into the clinic and following women to cars and abusing them. The spokesperson for the pro-life group, David Forster, has denied claims of aggression, claiming, “We seek to try and approach patients to get their cooperation”. Dr. Susie Allanson, who is a long-time psychologist for the clinic and a witness at

14 || News

the trial, strongly disagrees. Dr. Allanson said that the invasion of personal space can be very confronting and causes immediate stress reactions, in some instances resulting in patients delaying important follow-up procedures. The pro-life group believes that if the abortion clinic wins the case, it would adversely affect civil rights groups. While the Melbourne City Council has sympathised with women seeking treatment, they also assert the rights of protestors to act freely. In support of the abortion clinic, Kate Eastman SC, Counsel for Victorian Equal Opportunity and Human Rights Commission argues that, “One set of human rights cannot be used to nullify another person’s rights”.

REGULARS

Q&A WITH JOSH PYKE

INTERVIEW || SARAH BASFORD ‘Hollering Hearts’ is now out and you’ve performed a few sneaky acoustic performances as well as releasing ‘There’s A Line’. Can we expect that the rest of But For All These Shrinking Hearts to be similar in sound? I think it’s a pretty eclectic record, really; there are definitely some upbeat moments and some more mellow moments, buts that’s always been the case with my records. There’s kind of some more synthy stuff that I’ve experimented with on a couple of the tracks which has been fun. One of the tracks is pretty much a pianobased song. So, yeah, it’s kind of all over the place. I find it hard to be totally objective about how it all comes together, but I think it’s quite eclectic. I guess then, what inspired you, musical or otherwise, for this album? Well, I just write about whatever’s inspiring me at the time. It was a bit of a different process this time with a couple of tracks, in particular ‘Momentary Glow’ and ‘Songlines’ were songs that I co-wrote with Dustin Tebbutt and Marcus (of Jinja Safari) [respectively] and those guys are mates of mine and writing with them was amazing, musically, but when it came to writing lyrics, I really wanted them to be personal and from my own voice. I recorded the demos of them with just a jibberish kind-of vocal line and I took the demos away and translated the jibberish into what it sounded like I was saying and then from there, I latched onto certain themes. These themes kept popping into my head. It was like I was translating my subconscious. From there I was able to deal with some things that I could articulate into the conscious world. So, the inspiration was very much my own subconscious. It wasn’t specific events or a particular piece of art which has happened. It came from a bunch of stuff which was percolating in my subconscious which was interesting. It sounds like the record will be an interesting result of that. Do you start writing the music first and worry about the lyrics later? Is that how you’ve written previously? Well, again, it’s a bit of a difference. In the past, I always wrote pretty much at the same time. I don’t really know how to explain it, but everything would just come out at once. Like ‘Middle Of The Hill’ I wrote in pretty much the time it takes to play that song, but more and more I’ve been wanting to refine the lyrics and write about some more esoterical, left-field things. In order to do that, it’s been the case that the lyrics have come after which is a relatively new thing. Cool, and is there a story behind the new album title, But For All These Shrinking Hearts? I was in the UK on tour and I was feeling a bit displaced and also disillusioned with quite a few things that have

been happening in the world lately, particularly with our government, and just the state of the world. You know, twenty million people come in to London every day and that’s not much less than the population of our entire country, so it’s pretty full on. I wrote this little verse, which I thought might end up in a song but it said, “You are a shadow / held the lost / in a world less vast / but for all these shrinking hearts” and I just put it aside and didn’t think about it again. But when I came back to Australia and I’d done the record, I was looking through all the lyrics to cherry-pick one lyric that summed up the album for me as the title and I couldn’t find a lyric in the songs that were actually on the record, until I was flicking through the book that I keep to write stuff down, and I came across that verse again and I just thought the final line summed up everything I felt I was trying to say. Cool, that’s a nice, little anecdote. Did you end up working with familiar people with this record or collaborated with fresh faces? I worked with John Castle again who did the last record. It was pretty much just me and him on the record, apart from the strings and the horns, of course, because neither of us can do that. We used Roscoe James Irwin who’s one of the horns players from The Cat Empire and he did all the arrangements for the strings and horns. He was just absolutely brilliant. And obviously, your upcoming shows will focus on newer material, but how does it feel playing older stuff you’ve been playing for nearly a decade now? Do you get sick of them or is it like greeting old friends? I’ve got to say, I never get sick of them. It’s been one of the biggest realisations over the years. Even songs like ‘Middle Of The Hill’, which I’ve played thousands of times by now, it’s just such a personal song and for me, from the very beginning, every creative decision I’ve made and every song that I’ve put out into the world, I’ve needed to be 100 per cent comfortable with it and excited about it and in love with it. The other thing is that I’ve got enough songs now, over five albums worth, that if I am feeling like I need to change the set-up, I have lots of other songs that I love that I can throw in. So, yeah, I never really get sick of any of the songs and if you want to add a bit of variety to them, you just do a different version and that keeps things fresh as well. And just lastly, this one’s not for me necessarily… do you have any tips for growing a great beard like your own? Uh, well, you just have to be predisposed to it, so there are not a lot of tips. Your body, genetically, just needs to be ready for it. I had a beard when I was fifteen, so it’s just the way it is. Shame. Thank you so much for your time, we really appreciate it. Have a good day! No worries, you too. But For All These Shrinking Hearts will be released on 31 July 2015. You can catch Josh at The Soda Factory on Wednesday 29 July.

SYDNEY WRITERS FESTIVAL: NOT AN EVENT, BUT AN EXPERIENCE WORDS || KAWSAR ALI “Hi, to the Sydney Writers Festival, please,” I said, entering the vehicle, flushed from a racist encounter a few moments ago. I shrugged it off; I just wanted to get to Walsh Bay as soon as possible. I never thought I would get in a taxi, the idea of trusting a stranger in a closed vehicle left my stomach in knots. The driver could tell I was uncomfortable. “So, who are you going to be paying to see today?” he said. The tone of his voice gave away his position on the Sydney Writers Festival, a waste of money. I didn’t tell him that my internship with SBS had paid for all of my tickets. I didn’t bother telling him I would have paid for them myself to attend anyway. “A couple of other authors and academics, more so a session with Mohsin Hamid. From what I hear, his sessions have set the bar high for the rest of the festival,” I said, searching my bag for change. Looking in the driver’s mirror, a smile appears on his face. “I agree. I cannot speak on behalf of the festival but his writing is very good.” Nodding in agreement, I paid him for the service and headed towards the wharf. I took a seat in a session titled ‘Mohsin Hamid: Life, Politics and Art’. The host insisted that Hamid should read excerpts from his best selling novel, The Reluctant Fundamentalist. Hamid didn’t say anything; rather he picked up the remotely thin, yet dense book, and carefully flipped through the pages. Scanning the paragraphs for the most decadent prose, the audience waited in anticipation. “If you have ever, sir, been through a breakup of a romantic relationship that involved great love, you will perhaps understand what I experienced.” He sat there visibly touched by his own words. Hamid’s words fell from his tongue like honey off a spoon. Creeping around the eager and thirsty folds in our minds, then, finally, molded into them. The atmosphere had changed. I had changed. We had all been layered with his speech. And for those who had their defenses up, well, he carefully and creatively teared those walls down. Nobody was left uninspired. Everybody was thankful for it. Myself, in particular, couldn’t get enough. “There is, in such situations, usually a moment of passion during which the unthinkable is said; this is followed by a sense of euphoria at finally being liberated; the world seems fresh as if seen for the first time, then comes the inevitable period of doubt, the desperate and doomed backpedaling of regret. And only later, once emotions have receded, is one able to view with equanimity the journey through which one has passed.”

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The audience sat in awe. In complete silence. Hamid closed the book with a thud. Applause shook the room and a smile appeared on Hamid’s face. Like an artist examining others praising his work, Hamid looked at the crowd in gratification. To have read someone’s work was something, but to have heard someone read their work was an experience. The host asked a number of questions exploring prejudice, identity, literature and love. My favourite response answered the question of how life changed after the events of September 11. Hamid paused for a second before continuing, “I think a part of what happened is that ... contrasting identity between two worlds did not pose much of a challenge until September 11. We were asked to choose a dominant side, our cultural background or were we classified as American. What are you really? And that, for someone like me, was very complex.” As a Muslim woman I could empathise with what Hamid was proposing. What stood out in particular was noticing a room full of people agreeing with him, an audience where I could safely say, the majority were non-Muslim. It warmed me to watch people realise the universal ‘othering’ that has resulted in placing ‘good’ citizen and ‘bad’ Muslim on opposing sides. I was forever thankful Hamid highlighted this during his time at the Sydney Writers Festival. Despite having copies of all of his novels at home, I purchased new copies for Hamid to personalise at the book signing. After a small talk and Hamid signing a short stack of all my new purchased novels, I left the venue for another session. Sitting in a session titled ‘The Evolution of Belief’ I was hungry for a passionate demonstration of academic opinion. Instead, I found myself studying Hamid’s personalised messages and signatures to compensate for the boredom I found myself stuck in. Not to discredit the speakers, as the audience seemed to be enjoying the discussion, my mind was just elsewhere. Ten minutes into the session I found myself thinking of going back to the book signing and asking Hamid some questions. Soon enough, that was exactly what I did. The atmosphere of the bookstore; which only fifteen minutes ago was chatty and congested, was now empty, with no trace of Mohsin Hamid. Accompanied by gentle waves beneath the wharf, I sat on a bench and wrote to my hearts content. Leaving the venue on a cold Thursday night, I contemplated on the change that the Sydney Writers Festival had brought upon myself. And I swear, the city felt different after that.

DOES AUSTRALIA CARE ABOUT HUMAN RIGHTS? WORDS || TAMANA MIRZ

One of the main issues Australia is facing at the moment is its contentious policy on asylum seekers. Its actions have established Australia as having one of the most restrictive detention systems in the world. More people than ever before are now questioning whether the Australian Government has already breached human rights regulations with their strict rules on asylum seekers. When the United Nations Human Rights Committee (NHRC) decided to investigate the issue, the Committee found that the detention centres provided for asylum seekers and refugees by Australia may in fact inflict psychological harm upon the asylum seekers and refugees. The UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, Zeid Ra’ad Al-Hussein, critiqued Australia’s refugee policy for “leading to a chain of human rights violations, including arbitrary detention and possible torture following return to home countries”. Since April 2015, there has been 1 914 asylum seekers in immigration detention centres, not to mention the 1 648 asylum seekers in offshore detention centres. However, the number of children held in detention centres has increased recently with at least one-hundred and twentyseven children currently being detained, as well as upwards of ninety-five children detained in Nauru, an offshore detention facility. Many of the children in detention centres travel to Australia by boat, coming from over twenty different countries, and a lot of the time they have no idea why they’ve had to flee, nor where they’re heading. They are also sometimes alone or separated from their families in the process. Another investigation by The Australian Human Rights Commission (AHRC) revealed that children are being harmed and traumatised by their experience in detention centres which has severely affected their mental health. Children on Nauru are also suffering from higher levels of psychological, emotional and physical development stress and there are strong links between detention, mental health and self-harm.

The environment provided within the detention centres are more often than not, incredibly unsafe, especially for unaccompanied children who are the most vulnerable with higher risks of harm. Another issue is that the children are held in detention centres for long periods of time. In 2013 it was reported by the AHRC that a Cambodian boy was detained for nearly six years. These long periods of time in detention, especially for children, have again violated human rights regulations. The Australian Government really needs to deeply think about its current handling of asylum seekers and children in detention centres as it has continuously breached human rights, which overall, reflects negatively on Australia. As a result, many organisations are now responding to this issue to prove that not all Australian’s have the same views on asylum seekers and children. Campaigns are often made by organisations to show their support. For example, the Jumping Up & Down 4 Kids is a current campaign initiated by the Catholic Education Office in Sydney. The aim of the campaign is to raise awareness by jumping for kids who are being held in Australian as well as offshore detention centres. The campaign encourages supporters to share their jumps on social media as a way to engage, and again bring awareness to the situation. Jumping Up & Down 4 Kids has been very successful as more Australian public schools have been getting involved through jumping, which has raised great awareness to different sectors. The Campaign has received great support from Thomas Albrecht, a representative from UNHCR, and Virginia Small, a former ABC broadcaster. As more Australians are getting involved the campaigners’ hopes are that as a greater awareness spreads, more action will be taken to take children out of detention centres, and move them into better living conditions. So let’s all Jump Up & Down 4 Kids as all humans deserve to be treated equal no matter where they may come from or how they arrive!

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OVER THE MOON CUP WORDS || VANESSA CAPITO My adorable (surprisingly cute), little pink menstrual cup. I like you, but I’m not sure how long this relationship will last. It’s not you, it’s me.

I was familiar with the menstrual cup before I took on this challenge, with a few friends already taking the plunge and switching from traditional tampons and pads, to their newfound colouful little counterparts. Personally, I hadn’t made the switch yet because, to be honest, shoving anything that wide inside my vagina that wasn’t a vibrator or the anatomy of a male counterpart was well out of the question, and quite frankly, scared the shit out of me. But, due to the fact that menstrual cups are a far cleaner and chemically free alternative, the idea wasn’t completely out in the dumps. For those of you who are unfamiliar with menstrual cups, let me just quickly get you up to speed. Made from a medical grade silicone, they’re essentially a flexible tube cup with a small tail at the bottom. Incredibly beneficial to the environment since they’re reusable, menstrual cups don’t produce a whole bunch of waste – as you would get with regular tampons or pads that go straight into landfills and pollute waterways. Plus, they’re healthier for you.

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Menstrual cups are hypoallergenic so they’re great for women who have sensitive skin or perhaps latex allergies, and they don’t contain any absorption agents which can usually cause vaginal dryness. This is a huge bonus because I tend to use pads at the beginning and end of my period when it isn’t as heavy, but with the menstrual cup, you can use it the whole way through. You can also wear them overnight, and up to 2-3 times longer than a tampon or pad (although I never left mine for more than four hours during the day, or used it at night). There is also no association of toxic shock syndrome (TSS) with menstrual cups which is a big deal. Although extremely serious, TSS also happens (thankfully) to be extremely rare, with only about one case per 100 000 women per year. However, in October of 2012, twenty-four-year-old model, Lauren Wasser fell ill on her period, and within a few days she learned she was going to lose her right leg to TSS. So knowing that a menstrual cup (hopefully) won’t ever do that, was a pretty damn good reason to give it a go.

DAY 1

Okay. Menstrual cups are weird. They look like measuring utensils from my kitchen or something which seems nice. But then I remember I have to somehow shove this thing inside me. I bought the size B of the Lunette (the Lunette is one type of menstrual cup available). I will also be referring to my menstrual cup as Lunette from here on in. I might even refer to it as ‘her’ or ‘she’ because I feel I’m going to get real sick of saying menstrual cup over and over again. Anyway, Size A is recommended for women who have had children, size B is for the rest of us. I ordered mine online, although you can buy them from some select pharmacies, I was surprised to find that there aren’t more available.

and I won’t be able to pull it out. And did I mention it feels funny?

I’m still not ready to try and put it in me. Tampons are nice and slim and small and don’t require any weird folding. I’m just going to YouTube some ‘How To’s’ for a while and then maybe come back to it. I’ll also try and stop myself from being such a little bitch about it, but that’s hard.

Pulling it out wasn’t so bad, I’ll be honest, it was more the fact that you couldn’t just throw it out, you had to physically rinse, wash and wipe it. And it wasn’t even half full. I’m sure people get used to this, and I’m sure I’m just being a fucking princess about it but surely there are other ways I can benefit the environment and myself and still use tampons right? I’ve already cut most of the meat out of my diet. Sustainability people!

–––––––––– Wonderful. So it’s in. It feels weird. And this little tail thing it has feels funny and uncomfortable. And you’re meant to trim it but I’m scared if I trim it it’ll be too short

–––––––––– Alright, so it has been about two hours and I thought I should probably empty this bad boy out, although I would’ve been much happier to talk about it than to actually do it. Firstly, I must say that I’m goddamn happy it’s a Saturday and I’m not at uni today because I don’t know how well it would’ve gone down had I been trying to do this in a cubicle, not to mention that I have to somehow rinse and clean this thing in a public bathroom. I’m already enough of a germaphobe as it is. -–––––––––

Vanessa! Stop fucking around. Okay, sorry. I do digress.

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DAY 2 Woohoo we made it! Sort of. I cheated and didn’t use it overnight because I was scared that I’d sleep in a weird position and it’d leak everywhere. Baby steps, people. But it’s in again now. I did trim the tail a tiny bit and it feels way better so I wish I’d just done that from the get go. My only worry for today is that I’m supposed to go to breakfast and I can’t do anything if it leaks (I’m about ninety-three per cent sure it won’t – but that other seven per cent can’t help but get the better of me). Please wish me luck. –––––––––– I went to breakfast at 10.30am and now I’m back home and it’s 1.45pm. I boiled some water and put the water in a bowl with Lunette to clean her. I’ve got a tampon in for the mean time. I’ve got to say it’s getting way more comfortable and unless I’m actively thinking about it, I tend to forget about her even being up in there. It’s just the whole ‘getting-herout’ and cleaning her that remains a struggle.

DAY 3 It’s Tuesday and I’m at uni today. I’m nervous because I’m here from 10.00am to 3.00pm and there’s no chance I can take Lunette out, although I have thought about locking myself in a disabled bathroom. But since you can leave her in for up to twelve hours I figured I’d be fine. Although leakage fears are still high, I have to admit that I suffer from ‘fear of leakage’ when I have a tampon in too. –––––––––– Success! I was fine all day, no spills – because I didn’t take it out. When I did get home to clean her out it was a bit messy (TMI? Soz), mainly because she was a little full (TMI again?) I was getting cocky and should’ve been more careful when I took her out. I’ll just say period blood on your hands, much like normal blood on your hands, ain’t glamourous.

DAY 4 School’s out! Not really, but it’s basically the last day of my period and therefore this challenge, which basically evokes the same feelings of joy. As we reached the end of today, I’ve got to say Lunette really wasn’t all bad, the only cons were having to try and empty her and clean her when you weren’t at home, which really sucked and isn’t a challenge I want to face – even if it’s only one a month. As much as I love the pros of my pink Lunette and what she does for the environment and my own little pocket, I’m still not entirely sure it’s a commitment I can make. I’ll definitely hang on to her, because she did cost $60, and she was my first love. But we’re definitely just mates, and probably won’t be entering any intimate relationships again anytime soon.

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FEATURES

A GLIMPSE INTO THE HEART OF DARKNESS: YOU MIGHT SAY DEBAUCHERY IS DEAD,

BUT THEN WHY ARE THE BROTHELS ALIVE AND WELL?

WORDS || PHILLIP WITHERIDGE

hen I sit down to write about brothels in Sydney, two images spring to mind. The first is a motel, defined by chaotic derelict apartments, drawn curtains, a hive for junkies, criminals, and prostitutes, where they hide from the world in a colourless and filthy heart of darkness. The second is more glamourous: a marble-white foyer, easily mistaken for a Colgate advertisement, leads to a fluorescent nightmare, decorated by satyr-like businessmen sitting eagerly erect on vintage red velvet lounges, clickclacking stilettos echoing as the ladies line-up in lingerie, and the polite, “here you go, sirs” delivered by the Madam while she pops another Moët. Well thanks a lot, Hollywood. These clichés plague me while I contemplate investigating the state of Sydney’s brothel industry. I’m awfully aware of how our perceptions of brothels are warped by confusion and the assumption that these things don’t really happen in our pretty

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little neighbourhoods. I start with a simple Google search of brothels in NSW (followed by a furtive deletion of my browsing history) and feel the veil of ignorance yanked from my eyes. Sydney’s sex industry is alive and well. And since New South Wales has the most liberal legislation on prostitution in Australia (being the only state to legalise prostitution) I’m swiftly intrigued. This is all news to me. So I decide to ring a brothel in the North Shore recently under fire for coercing women into sexual servitude. In 2013, the Madam was sentenced to a minimum of three years in gaol after grooming financially struggling women to come live in Australia, with the promise of university education and honest work, only to send them straight to work in her brothel. They were expected to work seventeen-hour days and complete a myriad of sexual fantasies

and fetishes, against their will, in order to send money home to their families with debt up to their necks. The brothel’s phone number, might I add, is plainly available on the internet. As the number dials, a brick of anxiety cements itself firmly in the pit of my stomach. This is the very same brothel, I think. The whole encounter feels sinister, until a woman with a peppy voice answers. I tell her I’m trying to organise a party for a mate, then request rates and information. She’s silent on the other end. Have I said the wrong thing? Do I need to say more? “For sex?’” she asks. “Yes,” I confirm, “I’d like the rates and information for sex”. She rattles off names – Amy from Hong Kong . . . Jess from China . . . and a Thai girl, Rose, who is accompanied with the lady on the phone’s reassurance: “She’s especially good”.

Show us more sex? accepted, Your Honour.

Challenge

I remember that a different establishment in the North Shore was in trouble because they implemented a two-tier pricing system, in which the services of foreign girls were offered at nearly half the price of white women. No matter how debauch a profession, it’s morally corrosive and wrong to base business models on discrimination. So, curious, I ask about the rates. “$160 an hour,” she says, “It’s half-price because it’s winter”. She tells me it’s the same price for all the girls. I probe for more information about the rooms and the girls, but she says I have to come in and see for myself. How lucrative. No thanks, I think, and hang up. I turn my attention to Hornsby Shire. Earlier this year, Hornsby Council paid a private investigator to go undercover to confirm whether a massage parlour, a mere fifty metres from Hornsby Girls High School, was operating as a brothel. The detective was paid by council to sleep with a prostitute. But the Council’s court case ultimately failed, as the evidence they provided of sex being exchanged for cash fell short of the legal definition of ‘brothel’, which requires more than one prostitute to provide services on the premises. Gloriously, the conclusion of the court was: show us more sex, and we will shut it down.

So I talk to a spokesperson from Hornsby Shire Council about why it’s so imperative to shut down brothels. “Illegal brothels need to be closed to maintain the integrity of the planning system, in the same way it’s important to close down other unauthorised land uses incompatible with the zoning objective.’” Although a fantastic exercise in political rhetoric, the spokesperson’s response was too emotionless and obscure to really answer my question. I ask what dangers these brothels pose for the community. “Council has not undertaken research on this issue” the spokesperson replies. I wasn’t sure how to respond; anger, or confusion? It seems there’s no human element in the treatment of shutting down illegal brothels, no passion for the exposure of nearby children, or perhaps the suffering workers themselves. The spokesperson went on to admit many brothels work in close proximity to schools under the guise of massage parlours. Some businesses have reported a loss in trade because of the brothels operating nearby or in the same complex. I ask the Council about the recently failed court case. “The biggest challenge is obtaining evidence to the required legal standard that an unlawful activity is occurring.” Council’s new protocol is to use three investigators when going undercover. Show us more sex? Challenge accepted, Your Honour. Whatever your moral stance on brothels, it’s important to recognise their existence, and that many are illegal. It’s because of its sexually vague culture that local journalist John Birmingham once called Sydney a ‘Leviathan’, a sea-beast donning mascara, a slithering snake showing a bit of leg. She has a come-hither gaze and murky heart. It seems common for university students to juggle a long list of trending social issues in their minds, each competing for supremacy and attention, each demanding action, protest, and deep contemplation. I’ve learned a lot investigating Sydney’s brothel scene. But more importantly, I’ve been given a new juggling ball. I’ve seen the bleak portrait – the iceberg’s tip – and hope it will become brighter in time. It’s an issue defined by curious contradictions, something we should all juggle in our minds.

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STRAIGHT UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT: COMING OUT AS RAINBOW IN A WORLD OF BLACK AND WHITE WORDS || JON PAPADOPOULO

“So, when did you come out?”

’m asked this question all the time, in situations involving my friends, sometimes friends of friends, even total strangers, and also in my professional capacity as the GLBTIQ Coordinator in Macquarie University’s Equity and Diversity Unit. But how can I answer it? Because honestly, I came out to myself – the hardest thing to do – when I was fifteen, then to some of my close friends after High School, my parents a year later, most of my family two years after that, six years ago when I started studying at university, four months ago when the taxi driver asked if I had a girlfriend, the other day when I reminded my grandmother that my ex was my boyfriend not just my ‘friend’, and now as I write to you.

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For many, and I’m truly troubled by this, coming out is a daily struggle. People like me are faced with a choice: do I come out, or not? In a perfect world, this question is obsolete. But instead, my brain kicks into overdrive, options and consequences flying through my mind . . . do I come out, or not? It’s a never-ending source of anxiety.

Lie, Jon, I think. Don’t tell them the truth. Or maybe I should? No, it’s safer to tell half of the truth. What happens is that we often fear the chance of encountering adversity or rejection. The decision whether or not to come out is defined by the weighing up of risk and possibility. Is it safe? Will this person tell other people who don’t already know? Could I lose this friendship if I’m honest? Will I miss out on the promotion? Will I be treated differently? Or, even worse, could I be attacked, insulted, or vilified? Maybe kicked out of home? Killed?

Imagine experiencing this arsenal of fears everyday of your life. For many people, this psychological and emotional crisis is an ongoing reality.

accept themselves. Unfortunately, a few will never come out, and are never seen or respected for their true identity.

So here’s the thing: I’m gay and will be coming out forever. In our Hetero-Normative society, heterosexuality is assumed to be normal, default, and the only valid sexual orientation. An inherent ignorance in the ways we discuss GLBTIQ issues is the failure to recognise the differences between what is normal and what is the majority. They are not the same thing. People, like myself, with diverse orientations and/or gender identities constantly have to come out and identify ourselves so our identity is acknowledged and validated. I like to joke that I’m “Straight until proven innocent”.

But there isn’t only bad news. Even though society has a long road to sexual and gender equity, being Queer is better understood now than ever before. Sexual orientation, gender identity, and intersex status are now protected and attributed under Federal Legislation. The marriage equality debate is occurring in Australia, with the future prospects of success looking increasingly bright. A number of services and organisations are set up to accommodate our needs. And there are so many out-and-proud role models in the public eye.

And even after coming out, there is an expectation that we explain our identity and answer every intrusive question thrown at us regarding our personal lives. Suddenly, every member of the GLBTIQ community is supposed to be a master of Queer theory and Queer identities. For some of us, coming out is a political statement, a way of saying, “Dammit, I exist! I’m different and that’s okay – I’m here, I’m Queer, get used to it!’ However, for the majority of us, it’s about being accepted for who we are. “I’m here, I’m Queer, please see me, love me, accept me, and understand me.” People who are Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex, and/or Queer, still face violence, discrimination, oppression, and prejudice in every aspect of modern life. In particular, young GLBTIQ people are over-represented in the statistics of alcohol and drug abuse, homelessness, mental illness, and suicide. All credible scientific, medical, and psychological research demonstrates that the cause of these issues is how we are treated by the people around us more than anything else. Some people do not publicly come out until they are older and secure in their lives, even though they may have realised their true gender identity far earlier. Others, and this still amazes me, come out at an extraordinarily young age and show the most amazing courage and confidence. Some people wait decades, even a lifetime, to come out and

So here’s the thing: I’m gay and will be coming out forever. If you are straight or cisgender, you may never understand the struggles hand-in-hand with coming out and being accepted. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not due to arrogance or indifferent blindness, but rather because you are privileged enough by the mantra of contemporary society to never have your identity questioned or invalidated. It is incredibly difficult to explain the feelings and emotions involved in coming out. Every time you do, it’s different: a mixture of euphoria, anxiety, stress, anticipation, excitement, or even an attitude of “I don’t care anymore”. What I ask you to remember is that your words and actions directly impact on somebody’s selfhood in deeply life-altering ways. Even if you don’t notice, it could be a really big deal for someone when they come out to you. Accept who they say they are, not who you perceive them as. If they ask you to protect their confidentiality, listen to them. If they don’t want to share anything else, respect their privacy. And try to appreciate how someone has trusted you enough to confide their authentic self. When I was a young man beginning to come out, the common responses from people, all of who meant well, ranged from “Well you’re too young to know for sure,” to “How can you be sure?” and even “Maybe it’s just a phase”. But when I came out to somebody who was Queer and had experienced the same ordeal hundreds of times, they simply said “Congratulations, I’m proud of you”. I encourage all of you to do the same.

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KEEP THINKING THAT WAY AND YOU’LL SWALLOW US WHOLE, I PROMISE: ‘BUT, LIKE, DO YOU DO IT FOR THE ANIMALS OR WHAT?’ WORDS || JACK CAMERON STANTON

finish reading Jonathan Safran Foer’s book Eating Animals and realise vegetarianism is a lone fighter in the legion of things I don’t understand about our planet. I think: this is important, and I want to know more. So when I get home I send Jonathan an email, hoping he’ll reply and answer some questions. He replied and said no. Which is okay, because he’s busy and I’m nobody, just disembodied words on a screen summoned by clicks and taps in the right places. I think: it’s easy to reject someone when they’re little marching black lines on a LED screen. So I visit my uncle, who is a butcher in East Toukley. His apprentice, Pat, is helping paint the shop. He is twenty-three, but his hands bear callouses of a far older man. I see promotion slogans in the shop-window. BEEF FUELS SUCCESS IN EVERYDAY LIFE BEEF UP! YOU SHOULD EAT RED MEAT AT LEAST TWICE A WEEK I ask my uncle about the slogans. He turns from his ladder. – Thousands of dollars of research, mate, and they come up with one fucking sentence. Then they take it, spread it everywhere, and bash the fuck out of it, basically. I had to remind myself that my uncle was referring to the slogan, not animals. I ask him why

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he isn’t vegetarian and he laughs. – Jackie boy, it’s hard asking me why I eat meat; I work in the industry. He steps up the ladder. – It’s part of our biology, our evolution. – But is it sustainable? I ask. I drop my paint roller. My hands blemish with white. – For now, yes. But one day, when you and I are gone, we will stop eating cattle. If climate change is true, then cattle won’t survive. – Do you think our biology indicates we’re supposed to eat meat? – Mate, we’re all carnivores at the end of the day, aren’t we? Then I speak to Pat about why it’s okay to eat animals. He’s worked in the meat industry for the last seven years, and is still classified as an apprentice. – These are hard questions I’ve never answered before, he tells me. I think: our societal starting point is not empirical inquiry into why we eat animals. There’s no initiation where we ask: “Do I feel fine, as a living breathing being, to eat another living breathing thing?” – I know, but why aren’t you vegetarian? – It’s a personal belief. I don’t think I’ve arrived to the conclusion simply by living, you know, I’ve had to think about it. – So you don’t see anything wrong with killing animals?

– I don’t see it as inherently evil or murderous. – Can I be honest? Pat nods encouragingly. – I think you’re relying on science and history to explain a contemporary problem. Pat wipes both sides of a butcher knife on his filthy apron. – History and science inform my personal view, but they don’t define it. From an evolutionary standpoint, it’s our nature. – You’re very comfortable discussing this with me. Usually people get a little defensive, even accusatory . . . – When you question people about their beliefs, they become uncomfortable and sometimes feel threatened. They have an understanding of the way the world works and they don’t enjoy when it’s challenged. Driving back to Sydney, after saying farewell and rejecting my uncle’s offerings of free meat, I pat myself on the back for thinking deeply about my ideological outlook in a morally obscure world. And I consider: if I were morally consistent, the rational endpoint is strict vegan.

If I believed in this ‘you’re-in-oryou’re-out’ style ideology that circulates the vegetarian debate, then I couldn’t maintain my current vegetarian diet without being a hypocrite. So I put it to the test. Day one eating vegan I jump the bus to work and my prepared lunch – of chickpeas, lentils, and lemon juice – soaks through my bag and ruins everything, including the handwritten first draft of this article. Day three I don’t eat fruit and I’m overwhelmed by intense cravings for sugar, so I spend a good hour talking to my little brother about chocolate until he tells me to “fuck off” so he can study, so I go to the kitchen and toss desiccated coconut and rolled oats and almonds into a pan and drench them with maple syrup then eat them with a spoon straight from the pan until my cravings vanish.

Day seven my girlfriend worries – I’m hardly eating anything – and diagnoses that my body has entered starvation mode, and I guess words like ‘starvation’ and ‘mode’ are disheartening when referring to your body until you remember how good you feel, and that those are just words, after all. Day eleven I feel really good, and I mean, like, energetic and optimistic and hopeful of sorts. I have insomnia so I swallow discs of melatonin before I sleep so I don’t wake at intervals during the night. But now I’m not taking them because I sleep deeply and without disruption, free from haunting fears of narcolepsy. Day fourteen I could go vegan forever. I feel like maybe it’d be a good idea to celebrate with milk coffee and poached eggs. And immediately I feel tired and bloated. So now, since the vegan experiment, I decide I like veganism, quite a lot. It’s been a month since and I feel lacklustre, indigestive, and narcoleptic. My insomnia returned with a vengeance. I eat vegan from Monday to Wednesday every week. Because it makes me feel alive, and helps my moral clarity. It has plagued my consciousness that many of the dairy and egg industries perpetuate the very horrors I loathe about the meat industry in general. I felt like a hypocrite. But now I feel okay. It’s costing me money, sure, and there are some teething problems. But I honestly think, with time, I can learn to adapt. It’s that very thing – adaptation – that’s been the adhesive of our civilisation for years. So I don’t understand why it’s constantly used against vegetarian culture as a defence for eating animals. And I’m truly saddened, sometimes depressed, by this breakdown of dialogue. That’s why I’m talking to you now, trying to avoid becoming marching black lines on a screen or page, so easily dismissed, or absorbed and forgotten. Nothing scares me more than being forgotten.

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SEEING SOUNDS:

IN THE LAND OF THE BLIND,

THIS ONE-EYED LADY IS QUEEN. WORDS || REGINA FEATHERSTONE

“It’s a little car.”

watch Cathy as she continues to click with her tongue. She hovers her hand a few centimetres above my beloved Barina. I know she’s good, but there’s no way she’s about to tell me any more details. “A little hatchback, is it?” Amazed, I reply “Yep, a two-door Holden.” “Shit, really?” When she smiles Cathy’s cheeks push her big dark glasses up from her nose. I’d be pretty proud too if I were blind and could tell with total accuracy the size, shape, density and proximity of objects around me. It’s a technique called ‘echolocation’ or ‘flash sonar’. It

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allows the vision impaired to navigate the world around them by making sounds that echo off their surroundings. Just as the visual cortex in the brain can be stimulated by sight, it can also be stimulated by sound when the brain realises one sense isn’t providing the necessary information. As we keep walking down the street of suburban Homebush, Cathy clicks. Her cane scans the ground in front, the only obvious sign that Cathy is blind. “I still need the cane to know obstacles on the ground but everything from the waist up is done by clicking.” Cathy moves with complete confidence pointing out bins and letterboxes as we pass by. Cathy was born with congenital cataracts. Her long list of operations started when she was three-

months-old, and granted her limited vision for a stint of her life. Growing up in 1960s suburban Sydney, the middle child of five, Cathy felt different.

Her cane scans the ground in front, the only obvious sign that Cathy is blind. Schooling became increasingly difficult. While there were schools for the blind, Cathy didn’t meet the criteria because she had some vision. Her father insisted she learn at regular schools. Her education fell behind because she couldn’t keep up with her reading, having to use a magnifying glass for all classwork. At age fourteen, Cathy’s reading level was that of a person in the second grade. She “failed Year Eleven beautifully” at Kincoppel-Rose Bay. Cathy graduated a mature aged HSC course at age twenty. Her father read out the marks in hospital after an operation on glaucoma in here eye. “I cried. I didn’t care what the marks were but that I did it.” With the operation successful, Cathy then started a career as a nurse’s assistant that was often interrupted by surgeries and recovery. “I lost count of my operations.” Cathy had her right eye removed at twenty-seven because it was shrinking away from the socket and sitting too low. It caused seizures and migraines that would last weeks. “You can live without an eye but you can’t live with fitting” Cathy says. The rest of her vision in her remaining eye started to worsen and she had to re-familiarise herself with using the cane. It meant that her fourteen years at Royal North Shore Hospital would soon come to an end. “I was terrified, I thought what am I going to do? I need to see what is around me. Are there units? Is that a cottage? I need to know my surroundings.” After several sessions with her mobility instructor named Marta, Cathy was becoming exceptionally frustrated with her looming blindness. When someone is blind, everything has to be planned out and pre-determined. Autonomy is limited and the simplest act of catching a bus can be too overwhelming. “At times [before echolocation] I was in tears, ill from anxiety of having to do different things.” A few years ago, “Marta planted the seed of echolocation, the act of clicking to see. I looked it up. I didn’t sleep…I was obsessed. I thought, how

the hell have I got through life not knowing about this?” All Cathy’s research kept leading her back to “this Daniel guy and his amazing abilities”. Daniel Kish became blind at thirteen-monthsold but naturally learnt to see his surroundings by making sounds that would echo back to form images. It’s similar to how bats see with sonar. He likens it to what we see when a camera flashes in the darkness. He calls his technique ‘flash sonar’ and with his organisation, ‘World Access for the Blind’ based in the USA, he teaches other vision impaired and blind people to see. With Marta’s help, Cathy started the process of learning how to echolocate. Beginning with simple household objects to echo with she then progressed to navigating outside. “I treated it like it was a degree. A class can only get you so far, you have to do the homework.” Cathy’s long term goal was to be walking around and having a scenic view. Cathy contacted Daniel and in 2012 he came to Australia and stayed with her for several days where they worked on her skills. She recalls being in a park and being able to put her head in between two bars without touching them. Her echolocation was so precise, the space left between her head and the bars on each side was the width of her finger. “The first time it worked I was out at the field and I just burst into tears and screamed. It was awesome.” Cathy can now see up to one-hundredand-fifty metres around her by clapping, which causes a larger frequency for an echo. Cathy ran through an early echolocation lesson with me. She held a bowl up to my ear and I clicked, then again with a flat plate. I could hear the difference in sounds between hollow and flat. That essentially is the start; being able to identify the way different shapes and sizes sound. As we sit in Cathy’s meticulously tidy apartment, I look across at a happy woman dressed all in pink with a giant smile. In her free time, Cathy volunteers and is a part of surfing, theatre and walking groups for the blind. Last year, Cathy took a trip to Hawaii where she could click through and see lava tunnels. Cathy’s zest for life has been facilitated by her independence, a product of her echolocation. Cathy sums up her drive, “I don’t want second rate. I want to experience life. This technique is free, no batteries and it’s natural.”

Features || 31

TAKING THE JAB:

SOME THOUGHTS ON THE ANTI-VACCINATION MOVEMENT WORDS || NICHOLAS WASILIEV

ords like bigot, misogynist, racist, and extremist are all thrown across our news, often to jab our ribs and provoke a response. Sometimes we are supposed to be outraged, other times we jeer or snicker. But mostly, whenever ignorance and bigotry reach our consciousness, we are disappointed. What these polarising discussions really illuminate is our growing refusal to let stupidity slide. With the Internet as our enabler, we have entered a new age of public shaming. As a result, the Abbott Government basked in rare applause from many Australians, who otherwise loathe their policies, when they announced in April this year that parents refusing to vaccinate their children will have their childcare payments withdrawn. Only those radical sympathisers and proponents of the ridiculously titled ‘Anti-Vaccine Movement’ will be affected. Their loss may total up to $15 000 in grants per child.

4 || Editorial

Supporters of anti-vaccination empower their argument by claiming they are agents of freedom and choice. They want this executive power without persecution by the law. But how justified is their cause in light of the near unanimous pro-vaccination support in the field of medicine? And why are they resisting vaccination in the first place? Throughout history our research into vaccination has played a crucial role in reducing the spread of contagious diseases, such as typhoid, tetanus, and meningococcal. Many of these diseases, however, have reared their heads recently as a result of the littered support for anti-vaccination. The anti-vaccination movement is almost exclusively responsible for this resurgence, as children whose parents, in the name of personal choice – or perhaps even more absurdly, scepticism toward traditional science – have elected not to vaccinate

themselves or their children. These people run the risk of becoming carriers for potentially fatal diseases.

Autism is not caused on an infective basis but rather on a genetic basis. There is no evidence that any vaccine causes increased rates of autism. Dr. Phil Cameron, a General Practitioner working in Rozelle, with thirty-years professional experience under his belt, has experienced resistance to vaccinations first hand. It must be noted that he is a firm believer in vaccination saying, “Vaccines safeguard populations against unavoidable, contagious diseases”. Anti-vaccine proponents have a reputation for basing many of their arguments on disinformation, for example the famous 1998 report by Andrew Wakefield which linked measles, mumps, and rubella (MMR) vaccines to higher rates of autism. Wakefield’s rationale was that the combination of MMR vaccines would overload toddler’s immune systems and lead to “neurological and gastrointestinal problems”. This hypothesis has since been viciously and systematically destroyed by scientific research, and abandoned by medical professionals (Dr. Cameron included). The MMR-autism association has been criticised as a tabloid media sensation rather than a credible scientific fact. Dr. Cameron comments, “People make faulty assumptions based on research . . . autism is not caused on an infective basis but rather on a genetic basis. There is no evidence that any vaccine causes increased rates of autism.” So given the amount of research disproving Wakefield, why is it that medical reasoning is still used in the anti-vaccination debate? Surely it’s not the fact that administering a vaccination may involve a small health risk. Dr. Cameron acknowledges that there is a small risk that the human body can react adversely to being vaccinated. “Most reactions would be discomfort, aches and pains for example. There’s no denying that we in the medical profession acknowledge there can be some risks. But they are usually very minor when compared to severe consequences of contracting the disease. In terms of severe reactions, it’s extremely unusual a vaccine will cause it.”

But what then about freedom of choice? Do we, as a society, and our government, as a political body, have the right to force people to look after themselves? As it stands, the policy says: look, you can choose to ignore medical realities, but we don’t accept your decisions are astute, and seriously encourage you to think otherwise. So maybe the more constructive way to perceive the coercive methods of policy in regards to vaccination is drawing attention away from the choices of consenting adults and toward the children that are victims of their parent’s choices. In this strain of thought, policy-making circumvents the moral high horse of ‘choice’ for the greater concern of children wellbeing. Dr. Cameron reflects that, “If parents reject vaccination on religious grounds, it’s still important to offer the benefits of vaccination for the child’s welfare. It’s good to compromise and at least have some vaccinations done.” If the majority of ‘conscientious objectors’ to vaccination based their stance on religion, this argument would be totally different. But it’s not the case, as websites like the Australian Vaccination Sceptics Network illuminate. Instead, objectors refuse vaccines on the principles of choice and making ‘informed choices.’ Dr. Cameron highlighted a specific case of an un-immunised twenty-one year old woman from Queensland who died from diphtheria, a disease mostly found in developing countries, as a major turning point for advocates of compulsory vaccination. “We make decisions relating to children based on what we consider to be their welfare, and if their welfare is threatened by actions of parents, the state steps in. Unvaccinated people are a serious risk to themselves and to others – encouragement and education can be more successful. Vaccinations are not just about ourselves, but a collective responsibility for protecting each other.” We need to realise that the power of choice is simultaneously liberating and dangerous. When a movement, like anti-vaccination, promotes the mantra of making ‘informed choices’, one must surely crease their brow while trying to understand their rejection of modern medicine.

Contents || 5

GOT SOMETHING TO CONTRIBUTE? SEND IT OUR WAY AT grapeshot@mq.edu.au Submissions for ISSUE 6: FRINGE close Friday 24 July, 2015

6 || Contents

CREATIVE

WARM

DARK

STONES

STORY || CAMERON COLWELL

On the bus home from dinner, Leonard’s eyes are warm dark stones. We’re separated by a degree of about three inches, both of us standing inside the packed vehicle, swaying this way and that as the bus stops and starts, saved from falling by the grey plastic roof handles. The smacking between lips of a young couple, a man and a woman, rises up from my side. We’re jostled by adult passengers and their children across their journey. The streetlights we pass glare against the patina of rainwater on the windows. I can’t touch Leonard. When I try to hold his hand he draws it back with a shy smile and places it into the pocket of his dark skinny jeans. I smile back, but inside I’m more than a little crushed. I avoid eye contact with a man in magenta speed-dealers while thinking about tonight, both what’s happened and what is about to unfold. A warm, beating current stirs my veins, some invisible force pushing us together, my penis is a loaded weight sitting in the front of my boxerbriefs. There are moments where I’m not distracted and I just feel things unfiltered and without anxiety. They never last very

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long, but while I’m in them, time seems stretched out, and nothing seems void of meaning. This might be one of those. Like all of the ones before it, it fades away into mental clutter as the bus pulls into the side of the road and Leonard says, “Here, this is our stop.” To get to Leonard’s we walk, hurried and with our heads down, through a narrow street, yellow lights beaming from inside of orange-bricked houses. “There, that one,” he says. The house, small and cosy-looking, is just like the rest. “I think everybody’s out.” He unlocks the door and leads me into a dimly lit kitchen, the only light emitting from a lamp by the flatscreen TV. Now that we’re inside, he turns to me, holds my face, and kisses me on the lips. I keep up with the movement of his lips until he extends his tongue into my mouth. I can taste his after-dinner cigarette, the one that he smoked while we walked to the bus stop, and he asked if I had condoms. I replied in the affirmative: I bought them at the pharmacist’s, picking them up with my prescription of apo-sertralin. I enacted it

to look like an afterthought, and hoped the chemist would be impressed that despite my head-problems I could still get a lay. Leonard takes his lips off of mine. I remember to be in the moment, and try to kiss him again. “Wait,” he says. He leads me up the stairs, to a dark bedroom, the silver illumination of a streetlight beaming in from the window. “Hold on.” He steps forward into the dark and flicks a switch. A chain of orange fairy lights begin to glow from around the bedhead. I sit down on his desk’s chair. “Mood lighting,” I say. “Nice.” He unlaces his boots, pulls down the zips they have on their sides, and takes them off. I swallow, and empty my pockets onto his desk. He takes off his socks, next, rolling them up, and putting them inside of his boots. I spread my legs out, and let out a deep breath. If this was a movie there’d be sensual yet haunting jazz tune playing. We have to make do with the sound of someone’s dog barking in the distance, the rain piddling on the window. I take off my jacket and rest it on the back of the chair. Leonard’s eyes are warm dark stones. I wish more than ever that I could open up his head and peer inside. He breathes through his nose, loudly, and gives me a look as to say, “So.” We sit in that heated silence for a few moments. I wonder what he’ll look like naked. The thought that he might be thinking the same thing about me makes me want to wince. “Are we going to do it, or not, Joe?” he asks. “I don’t know. I feel like we don’t know anything about each other.”

“Sex is a great way to get to know another person.” I give him a look. “So, ask me questions, then.” He steps onto the carpet. Fucking him would be bizarre; he has all the grace I lack. I go with the first thought that comes to mind. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?” “So fucking standard,” he says. “I was sixteen. His name was Bryce. It was at Year Eleven camp, in our cabin, while the rest of the group was out. I think he got married the other week, actually.” “Okay,” I say. Leonard’s belt clicks as he takes it off. His jeans slide off as well. His legs are strong, lean, and dark. His junk bulges against the front of his black pair of boxer-shorts, from their band rises a prickly stripe of hair, just as I thought it might. He’s standing over me. I can smell the detergent on his shirt. “Your turn.” “Hmm...” he says. His fingers unbutton my shirt. They’re cool on my chest. My gut spills out, over my belt, which bites it coldly. “What about you?” “I, ah...” I think about lying but my head’s too foggy. “I’m a virgin, Leonard.” “Well, hello,” he says. “Oh, God. Jesus. You must be shitting yourself. That’s wild.” “Yeah, that’s kind of it.” I wheel the chair backward. “Um, just ... in terms of where things go, am I going to be the one ... you know?” “No, I don’t know,” he says, smiling with mischief. “Like, am I going to be the fucked, or the...

CREATIVE || 37

Fucker?” “I think we call that top or bottom, Joseph.” “Right. That’s the one,” I say. “Well. It really depends. What do you feel would work better? I mean, I can do both. Plenty of practise in either.” “I’ve always imagined myself to be on top,” I say. “Why’s that?” “I don’t know. I think I might have an ego problem. My mum thinks I’m arrogant.” Leonard snickers again. “A good tip for the bedroom is to never mention your mother.” “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous. I’ll go to the bathroom, and come back.” I take a shit, unhappily. Sex is what I’m longing for a lot lately but now that it’s here it’s happening in a way unrecognisable to any of the ways I’d thought of it. A lot of desire works like that, actually. After I wipe myself, I take my unbuttoned shirt off in front of the mirror where there’s an assembly of hairspray, deodorant cans and ingrown hair removal cream. I prod my left breast, frowning. My dick looks pale and shrimpish. I want to rip my skin off and steal someone else’s. Or rip off my skin and flesh and travel around as a sentient cloud; having a body is a drag and I’m done with it. But this is what I have to work with. I dress myself and head back to the bedroom, where Leonard’s waiting, sitting on the side of the bed. I hold his shoulders and kiss him, and we fall down onto the doona together, now sideways, his legs wrapped around my jeans. He’s good with his fingers — he has my belt in an instant,

38 || CREATIVE

and I shuffle my jeans to the floor and let them fall onto the carpet. Now, he’s rising over me, his cock rubbing against mine as we kiss, moaning and heavily breathing during breaks. He tumbles to the side after a few moments, and I unbutton his shirt. “Okay. Now strip,” he says. Embarrassed, I take off my pants, fold them, and lay them on the ground. “This is what you’re working with,” I say. “Seen worse.” “Bet you’ve seen better?” He shrugs, and pokes my gut. “I like it. It orgasms, yeah? Your dick gets hard?” “It’s been known to do both of those things.” “There you go. Your body’s fine.” I shrug and sit up, on my side of the bed. Leonard reaches across for my shoulder but I shrink back involuntarily. “Sorry.” I say. He sighs, and folds his arms on his chest. “You know,” he says, after he pauses, “I’ve fucked way bigger guys than you, and none of them had much problems with it.” “Well,” I say, “maybe they were drunk enough.” He looks at me like I’ve hit him. “Oh, shit, It’s not you, I meant, like ... to forget my body.” “Okay,” he says. He reaches to his underdesk, pulls out a container of lube. “You know what this is, don’t you?” “I might,” I say, taking it from him. I pour some onto my hand. It smells like the kind of fear that grows in hospital waiting rooms. “Got a condom?” I nod, and reach over to my wallet. “Okay.” I put it on. He looks thoughtful, for a moment, then gets up. “What’re you doing?”

He gets out a towel from the cupboard. “Can’t forget this.” “Right.” I say. He lays it out on the bed, turns over on the towel, and looks up. I imagine drumrolls. “Um, you can’t just...Plonk it in.” “Oh. Right,” I say, “what do I do?” “Loosen it. With your finger.” I shrug, and put in one finger into his squishy warmth, and he lets out a little grunt. “Two fingers,” I say, and he moans again. I sit up, staring at the bed-head. “Ah … incoming.” He stifles his laugh by covering his mouth with the pillow for a second before it lets loose. “Incoming?” he asks. “Sorry. I’m … under pressure,” I say, holding my dick in my hand. I’m not nearly drunk enough for this. I thrust into him, let out a little gasp. “Fuck.” “Joe?” “Yeah?” “You fell out.” This time, I’m more careful. I let out a breath as he shoots a hand to the side of the bed, and cries out. I feel like I’m performing an uncomfortably intimate operation on an overly co-operative patient. Then, as if by magic, I stop thinking. Leonard’s eyes are warm dark stones. Sex, it turns out, is good enough to counter the otherwise unending hassle of being a three-pound mesh of soft nervous tissue encased in a sweaty, dying human body. Eyes a bit glimmery, still, he turns to me, on the bed. “How’s it feel?” “What?” “To lose it.” “Ah,” I say, “good.” Which is the polite answer. The truthful answer goes

something like, “It’s like waiting for your eighteenth birthday, because you think everything’s gonna be different, but then you wake up on the day and you don’t feel any different.” But you can’t say that sort of thing while mired in a post-coital haze; it’s not polite. I kind of hover in the afterglow with my arm over Leonard’s chest for fifteen minutes or so until I reach over and kiss him on the mouth. “Sorry I didn’t make you cum, though.” “Eh,” he says, “my treat. You can be big spoon as compensation.” “Alright,” I say. He turns around, and I wrap my arm around him. There’s a bit of fiddling as we settle comfortably onto the bed with one another. I watch Leonard sleep. He does it so easily. He breathes softly, his chest rising and falling beneath the thin sheets. I think about how I feel safe here, and wonder what it might be like to sleep next to Leonard like this on a regular basis. There must be other people, I think, both in the city and the suburbs, in the exact same situation as me, watching somebody sleep for the first time, wondering if the pulse of their heart is the prelude to the oncoming future.

CREATIVE || 39

THIS FAMOUS AUTHOR I LIKE AGREED TO MEET UP WITH ME ON A THURSDAY EVENING FOR SOME DRINKS WHICH DIDN’T JUST SURPRISE ME BUT ALSO CHALLENGED MY LIEFLONG IDEA OF WELL-KNOWN WRITERS...BUT WHAT THE FUCK DO I KNOW ANYWAY? STORY || JACK CAMERON STANTON

It’s raining and I’m out of cigarettes, so I dread the walk along Military Road to my choice of venue, the Three Gents Pub, because it’s gentrified and expensive and I feel those things don’t reflect me – and goddamn I’d hate to misrepresent myself to this famous author. Maybe Red will wander in, look at the $9 schooner, scoff, and return home thinking what a fucking asshole, that thought specific to me. I walk past the brothel and its neon ‘5’ lights up, telling me it’s five pm and I’m late. I think: hey, listen, today you’re meeting Red, the author, and you picked a cocktail bar everyone claims is for ‘desperate wannabee corporate wanker types.’ You don’t want to come off as pretentious, it’s not too late to change location . . . what were you thinking? This guy’s used to drinking thirty cents beers in the Philippines, and XXXX rum from Kathmandu. Does he loathe the glamour here? I dunno, maybe he’ll spend the evening grumbling, judging, declining more than one courtesy $9 schooner. I walk a few blocks and the sun pokes between clouds as if it’s trying to reach me, after weeks of torrential rain, to apologise for the shit weather. I think: your existence will momentarily occupy the famous author’s consciousness. That’s something to be glad about. I get to Three Gents and discover I’m the first patron. The pub has chic décor,

40 || Creative

like a timewarp back to the 1940s with the armchairs, Johnny Cash on the stereo, and wheezing carpets. I nod at the bartender, a gruff man (twenty-eight, thirty?) with a beer gut and tattooed arms and stretched ears. “Alright mate,” he says, leaning on the bannister and returning to a conversation with an old man rolling cigarettes at the bar. In the furthest corner I collapse on a moth-devoured couch then take selfconscious sips from my water bottle. Which means I’m sipping like every three seconds. Could I do anything more meaningful? Buy some smokes, make a phone call, join the conversing men at the bar –anything to cease my sprinting mind. Out comes the iPhone to aimlessly scroll newsfeed. I grab the bottle, well-aware it’s empty, put it to my lips like a pacifier, and gulp at nothingness. The door opens and Red strides in, tall, unshaven, broad shouldered, smiling. He could’ve been a corporate banker. He greets the bartender like old pals, then spots me. “Jay?” I jump up, knocking my iPhone to the ground. I panic. Double-take. Leave it on the ground. “Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking hands. “I feel like I already know you.” We head to the bar. I fumble for my wallet. Should I buy him a beer? Is that the right thing to do? I open my mouth to say something, and then –

“What’ve I gotta give you,” Red says to the bartender, who’s vacantly searching Spotify. “Credit card? Driver’s licence? House keys? Let’s get this tab rolling!” Red hands his credit card over, points at the beer taps, raises two slender fingers and the bartender hands us beers and a disposable Nikon with the number 28 painted near the lens. Which makes me wonder how many people open tabs here, and if they ever need twenty-eight different ones open. Anyway, fifteen minutes later we’re three beers deep. Red asks me, quietly, “Do you like cocaine?” And I say, “Well sure, but I don’t use in Sydney.” His brow furrows. Did I say the wrong thing? “It’s all cut up with a laboratory of under-the-sink products. I can’t afford $300 a gram, no way.” “What if I have a piece of Colombia with me?” He smiles, then heads to the bathroom, through saloon-swinging doors. They allow every sound to echo back into the bar, even piss splashing on the urinal, but I can’t hear a thing happening inside. Quiet . . . nothingness . . . I’m perspiring into my beer and drinking it back. Red returns. “There’s a tissue on the toilet cistern. Lift it carefully, left something for you.” “Do you have a note?” I check my wallet. No money inside. He hands me a twenty, and bloom scarlet, a headache tingling shamefully. Like, as if buying me drinks and cocaine doesn’t matter, yet the second he places money in my hands I’m a deadbeat. In the cubicle I realise the fucking door doesn’t lock. No one’s coming in anyway, I figure. I roll the note and remove the tissue paper. A hefty line of cocaine camouflages against white porcelain. The saloon doors swing open and a man lumbers to the urinal, grunts, zips, spits, and ahem . . .ahem. I hold my leg against the door, keeping it (somewhat) closed, trying to stifle my

incriminating snifffffff. Back at the bar Red’s grinning and I’m grinning and my legs shake uncontrollably and Red notices and we laugh about it and even though I’m in a comfy couch I feel like I’m running a thousand kilometres. I whip out my copy of his book and hand it to him with a fat black marker. He writes: Thanks for the interview, Jay. Cocaine is a dirty drug, a glamour tag that will kill us all. Look forward to reading your book one day. “Another beer?” “No thanks,” I say. “Don’t be a fucking pussy.” His eyes are bloodshot, rotating in their sockets like vinyls playing soundless songs. “You’re supposed to be an alcoholic student. Jesus, you can’t be beaten by an old fucker like me.” I absorb the comment more than respond to it. He goes to the bar and yells, “What are you drinking, pussy?” I slam my beer and say, “Same as you,” and he returns with four pints. I gush, “Look, thanks for everything, like honestly Red, I’m flattered, because, like, people don’t often do this, you know?” “Do what?” he asks. “Why wouldn’t I meet up with you? Mate, I see a younger me in you. Hell, we might end up being friends. Can I have the note back?” I fumble, embarrassed, for the sole note in my wallet. I don’t even remember putting it there. “I hope you don’t mind. I invited friends tonight.” “I don’t mind,” I say. Red smiles, ducks to enter the bathroom, and disappears. I feel like a smoke so I scribble on the coaster BE BACK SOON, OUT FOR SMOKES and hit the street, basically running to the convenience store, and when I walk back I smoke so quickly that my throat burns infernally and by the time I finish half of the cigarette I stub it out, perspiring again. I think: maybe I’m rude, leaving when he’s

Creative || 41

spending all this time and money on me. Back inside Red is with a woman, mid-twenties, dressed in sports gear. Red introduces us (her name is Lydia), then he slides her the cocaine and a razorblade and she jumps to the bathroom. “Sure you don’t mind?” “Nope.” “Great, I’m trying to sleep with her. Joined her gym yesterday, across the road. Turns out she’s read my book. Anyway, tell me, the other week in our interview you said you’re struggling to write?” “Sometimes I’ll write then delete what I’ve written because I hate it and I’m not saying what I want to say. I’ll write all day and produce a hundred bad words.” “You know,” Red says, gazing out the window, “at your age I wrote a thousand words, everyday, from four am to six am, before changing into my monkey suit to work in a shitty law firm. I’d never see writing as good words or bad words. I’d think: these are words, and I am writing, and –” “Jerry! How you doing?” Red jumps up, eyes hellishly dilated, hair dishevelled, his entire physique looking more weathered and fatigued by the drugs and the drink. He shakes hands with a fat white-haired man. “Jay, meet Jerry. He’s a travel journo for Channel 7.” The fat man squeezes next to me and his thighs rub against mine when he uncrosses and crosses his legs. Which he does heaps. It’s quickly apparent that he too is high on coke. His nostrils are enormous, like, two drug vacuums designed to snort cocaine were glued to his face. Over the next hour I drink more and can’t sit still and take cocaine and even though I try to enter conversations I end up on the outskirts and wring my hands under the table, unable to shake the feeling that something is missing. I ask Jerry about being a travel journalist and I’m disappointed to find he’s only the sound guy. “Ahhh, yeah well I lived in Melbourne most of mah life,” Jerry says, sniffling. “Honestly though, you wanna be a writer? Go overseas, get out of the fishbowl. Nufin for yah here, no way. I tried to be a

42 || Creative

writer once. Yeah, nah, better believe it! Spent thirty years of my life in Melbourne and accomplished nufin. Got a girl pregnant, married her, divorced her after we had two kids. Grim stuff, mate. Venezuela is where yah gotta go, get yahself to Venezuela . . .” Jerry bores and depresses me. His energy, like a puppy, is hyper-positive and totally affected. I ask Red the question I’d withheld for so long. “How’d it go today, with the publishers and the new book?” Red misses a beat. His face metamorphoses, you can see sadness drain its crimson. “They rejected it.” Lydia snuggles up to him, stroking his hairy arms. “I’m defeated. That’s five years of my soul. I bought this bastard – ” he taps his breast pocket “– because we were celebrating. But now the whole night feels like my book’s epitaph.” I’m hurt by this remark. I think: stop it, it’s not always about you. Nobody says anything. We let misery have its dominion, grip our collective spirits. “But you’re not going to give up, right?” I ask. Red smiles at me, distant, in a web of thoughts, his face creasing like incinerating paper. God, he looks just like me, day in and out, struggling. Then Lydia bounces up and says, “Let’s celebrate being here, together, in this moment!” And Red hardens, his face unreadable once again, stoic, confident, a famous author. Red buys countless cocktails with a paradise of fruit hanging off the rims. He speaks nostalgically to Jerry of their time in a Bolivian gaol. Everybody engages around me but not with me. Or maybe it’s me? I think: what the fuck are you still doing here? We all get up and leave the pub, Lydia and Red hand in hand, Jerry very drunk now, stumbling behind us. Red says goodbye to me, no worries mate, my pleasure, we’ll meet again soon, we will, I promise. They all turn left, and I go right, to home and sleep. On the walk past Brothel No5 I think: Red became famous when he was twenty-seven. I’ve got five years to go. Then my phone vibrates. It’s a text from Red. It says: Lydia has a boyfriend :(

REPEAT OFFENDERS

THE STEW

WORDS WORDS||||VANESSA VANESSACAPITO CAPITO

To go along with this issue’s theme, Bodies, lets have a geeze at some places that make us use our bodies. And hell no, I’m not talking about exercise, I mean places where we can buy delicious food, but have to eat it standing up. Or you could walk to a bench or something, but if you’re anything like us here at Grapeshot, food is number one, you know, and we don’t have any time to walk to a goddamn bench.

HOT STAR

96 Liverpool Street, Sydney CBD Mon-Thurs & Sunday: 11am-12am, Fri-Sat 11am-2am Really drunk? Really hungry, and also really poor? Hot Star is definitely your place. Don’t expect a seat here – but don’t worry, that’s not the reason you’ve come, a massive $10 slab of fried chicken quite literally the size of your head is. This little takeaway joint has large crowds at lunchtime but the wait is worth it. Cooked fresh to order, large pieces of flattened chicken are covered in a delicious spiced coating that knocks KFC out of the park. Although take it a little easy on the extra spice options unless you know you can take the heat. There’s also curly fries and chips which are pretty standard, and don’t be surprised if you find some bone and cartilage left in the chicken, a sign that it’s actually real chicken rather than processed and reconstituted. And yes, it’s takeaway only, but if you’re desperate to rest your legs, you can find some bench seating next door in the open garden area. And don’t forget to revisit and try the deep fried mushrooms.

44 || REPEAT OFFENDERS

MARY’S TAKEAWAY

154 Castlereagh Street, Sydney CBD Mon-Sun: 10am–late.

LORD OF THE FRIES

537 George Street, Sydney CBD Mon-Wed & Sun: 11am-11pm, Thurs: 11am-1am, Fri-Sat: 11am-4am

An extension of Mary’s Newtown, Mary’s Takeaway is the burger joint we’ve all been waiting for. With a limited menu, they’ve got burgers and all the classics that go with them. There are five burgers on offer: The Mary’s burger, cheeseburger, chicken burger, veggie burger and a breakfast burger. It’s all the durrty tasty food you’d ever need. In line with the theme, it’s takeaway only with no seating (although they do have an upper level that’s used only for function and production space. New to the menu (of Mary’s Newtown) is the chicken burger ($12) served fried and crispy with Mary’s special sauce and salad. If you attend between 10am and midday, you’ll also have the op of the highly coveted breakfast burger ($12) with sausage, bacon, hash brown, HP sauce, maple syrup, cheese and egg. Also, your burger’s best friend is of course the shake, that comes in strawberry, choc or vanilla with the option for the house-made seasonal flavour. Last time it was smoked maple (ie. goodness).

This fast food, takeaway only vegetarian hub is the owner of the prized, deep-fried, sweet potato chips covered in an array of sauceygoodness. If there was ever a time to describe food as slutty and deliciously greasy (in the best possible way), it’s now. Soft on the inside, a perfect crunch on the outside, they’re seriously addictive. My only reservation would be the Mexican Chilli Salsa op really isn’t that spicy – although my spice game is pretty high. Lord of the Fries is also another perfect sub for a late night drunken grease fix if you’re not in the mood for a kebab (which is probably very unlikely). Some of the meat substitutes are spot on, while others are more of a science experiment, but when you’re three bottles of wine in, you can’t really tell the difference. As for their Guru Burger (veggie burger), while tasty, it’s definitely not a memorable burger; a plain white roll with an albiet tasty hot sauce, but a subpar veggie patty with classic salads.

REPEAT OFFENDERS || 45

IN REVIEW

FILMS

AMY

REVIEW || VANESSA CAPITO A behind-the-scenes look at the rise and fall of the late British singer Amy Winehouse, Amy highlights filmmaker Asif Kapadia’s ability to put together a sound documentary that is archive and factual-heavy, yet finding a much deeper story than just a singer who lost control of her life. Kapadia has done a brilliant job of coaxing friends and family to broadcast some of their own private footage and in doing so, the film develops an intimate window into a Winehouse that is fundamentally different from her celebrity. Made up of a mixture of home videos, archive footage from interviews and television shows, the style of film really enhances the immersion into Winehouse’s past. Amy manages to both celebrate Winehouse’s talent, and bemoan her dour circumstances. Unsurprisingly, in the run-up to its Cannes premiere, Mitch Winehouse and Reg Traviss (Winehouse’s partner at the time of her death) have argued that the film provides an unfairly biased perspective of its subject. Kapadia leaves it up to the audience to determine whether Winehouse’s situation could truly have gone another way. Whether he has or hasn’t captured the true essence of the singer may require further debate, but what’s beyond question is that Amy is an extraordinary, powerful work. 4/5

THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES

REVIEW || VANESSA CAPITO An expansion of Russel Brand’s YouTube series, The Trews, this film finds the comedian-turned-activist failing to gain access to the headquarters of major banks, with sporadically entertaining results. Whatever you think of Brand’s politics, in this film, he does at least dare to ask those questions that still need answering. Is it right that £80 billion of bonuses have been paid out to

46 || REPEAT OFFENDERS

bankers since the financial crisis, while welfare benefits are being cut? Of course, these are not original thoughts, but the way that Brand sets out about tackling society’s understanding makes for a captivating viewing. While it is all very entertaining, there is a narcissistic streak to Brand’s approach which threatens to undermine his project. He finds it difficult to separate comedy from the activism. So, even as he is trying to make apparently radical political points, he is cracking jokes and playing up to the crowd. Manipulative as this film may be, it is sure to leave you feeling angry about the current state of policy, undeniably so though, it is often anger that precedes change. 3/5

MADAME BOVARY (2014)

REVIEW || CAMERON COLWELL Madame Bovary, a new take on Gustave Flaubert’s classic, is dry, painful, and lifeless despite being visually pretty. It portrays Mia Wasikowska as a vapid, onedimensional housewife, Emma, in provincial France; her longing and anguish made to look like childish boredom. Director Sophia Barthes’ nineteenth century Normandy is a glum backwater, where Emma quickly finds herself with nothing to do but to stare forlornly out of rain-streaked windows, after she marries the monotonous Charles. While the considerable artistic license is forgivable, the film has cut out what makes the book so timeless: the depth of Emma’s suffering. By the end of the novel, readers will feel like they understand every facet of the titular character’s mind, with pages devoted to her inner workings and fantasies. Mia Wasikowska, in contrast, is a simple-minded bore who is always kept at a distance. By the time her ruin becomes final and she dies — no spoilers here, the film lets us know she’s doomed in the beginning — audiences will feel relieved rather than sympathetic. Madame Bovary lacks all of the detail and depth of the novel, replacing it with a superficial glumness and a hollowness that no amount of gorgeous woodland imagery and lavishly designed period dresses could fill. 2/5

BOOKS is struggling and alone, but excited for life nonetheless. Seriously, this is the most refreshing and honest writing I’ve read out of Australia in the last few years. 4.5/5

HOW TO GET FILTHY RICH IN RISING ASIA MOHSIN HAMID

LITERATURE REVIEW || ROWAN TAYLOR Whilst the title may lead you to anticipate a satirical slog, don’t be fooled. How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia is a witty, observant and inventive love story.Set in Mohsin Hamid’s birthplace of Pakistan, the story charts the lives of two lovers whose luck, daring and drive take them from humble rural origins toward success in the big city. The blend of textured setting and (sometimes painfully) intimate character interactions make for a slick book in which plot is secondary to the joy of skillful prose. Hamid’s writing has a lyricism which makes for fluid and pleasurable reading. However, the story can seem disconnected at times. It is more a novella than a full novel, and its short length combined with the ambitious timespan (around eighty years), mean that they story’s intentions outstrip its means. This is not a deal-breaker, but it leaves the reader feeling vaguely dissatisfied. In a literary world saturated by London, New York, and Paris, Karachi provides a bracing change of scenery and serves to remind us about how important it is not to take things for granted. Although frustrating, the novel makes for an engrossing read. Romantic novels of this calibre rarely make for pageturners, but it’s possible to finish the novel in less than forty-eight hours. Do not pick this book up until after exams are through, because it’s unlikely you’ll put it down until you’re finished. 4/5

LION ATTACK! OLIVER MOL

AUTOBIOGRAPHY REVIEW || JACK CAMERON STANTON Between arguing with a passive-aggressive roommate, trying to meet up with the girl he talks to on Facebook, working boring warehouse jobs, and daydreaming about growing up in Texas, Oliver is a young writer trying to capture everything he feels on the page. His writing is honest, thoughtful, energetic, and inspiring. It glimpses at the life of a young man that

THE TRUTH ACCORDING TO US ANNIE BARROWS

FICTION REVIEW || VANESSA CAPITO Evoking the same small town charm, the co-author of Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Society finds her own voice in this debut novel about a young girl whose arrival in Macedonia, West Virginia changes the course of history for a prominent family. The majority of the story is told from the perspective of twelve-year-old Willa, who, although is witty and insightful, wasn’t a believable character, which made it hard to fully engage with her. The other characters too, despite being well written to a certain extent, lack significant depth. An overall good read, however at five-hundred pages, I was definitely skimming towards the end to reach the finish line. 2.5/5

PRETTY GIRLS

KARIN SLAUGHTER

CRIME THRILLER REVIEW || VANESSA CAPITO International bestselling author Karin Slaughter returns with a sophisticated psychological thriller of treacherous secrets, cold vengeance, and unexpected absolution. We follow the story of two estranged sisters who come together to find truth about the tragedies that tore their lives apart. Powerful, poignant, and utterly gripping, packed with unforgettable characters and a hell of a storyline, Pretty Girls is different to Slaughter’s previous novels as the book is a standalone rather than part of a series. The story centres on the disappearance of a teenage girl and the murder of her father, and is told from two different perspectives – part of the story is told in the third person and part in the first person. A real page-turner, the plot is well constructed and full of unexpected twists and turns. 4/5

REPEAT OFFENDERS || 47

MUSIC

THE WEEKND

‘CAN’T FEEL MY FACE’ (SINGLE)

REVIEW || ADRIAN NGUYEN Canadian R&B artist Abel Testaye (aka The Weeknd) brings out a cool and confident dance single ‘Can’t Feel My Face’. On the surface, the song is a departure from the brooding and tortured sound that defined the singer in a trilogy of mixtapes from 2011. Yet its catchy and measured energy is reminiscent of prime Michael Jackson, and carries a lot in common with pop music’s current obsession with retro-EDM (see ‘Uptown Funk’ and ‘Get Lucky’). Abel’s lyrical arsenal of numb sex and narcotics was typically explicit, but here it’s cleverly held back as subtext (and I know she’ll be the death of me, at least we’ll both be numb/and she’ll always get the best of me, the worst is yet to come). If ‘Can’t Feel My Face’ doesn’t make him break through as a pop star, I don’t know what will. 4/5

SETH SENTRY STRANGE NEW PAST (ALBUM)

REVIEW || ALICIA SCOTT Seth Sentry’s punchy new follow up to the 2012 debut album This Was Tomorrow shows natural progression since his Waiter Minute EP release back in 2008. Yet unlike his two previous releases, Seth opens up about his troubled relationship with his father that has always influenced his music. After nodding your head through crowd-pleasing singles ‘Run’ and ‘Hell Boy’, the second half of the album explores a darker, emotional side of Seth that he has previously kept hidden from his fans. Seth has since revealed that ‘Violin’ is “by far the most difficult song I’ve ever written”, as he recounts experiences of childhood abuse from his father, which led to sporadic drug use and violence through his teen years and into adulthood. The album is filled with quirky punch lines and catchy hooks, and if you are a dedicated Sentry fan, you will notice subtle references to his older material (see ‘Pripyat Part 1’ and ‘Strange Lot’ on the Waiter Minute EP). Strange New Past is the injection into Aussie hip-hop that the music industry was waiting for, showcasing producer Styalz Fuego’s pop influences over Seth’s sharp lyrics. The 2015 release well and truly sets the Melbourne-based artist up to be one of the best Australian rappers in 2015. 4/5

48 || REPEAT OFFENDERS

CITIZEN EVERYBODY IS GOING TO HEAVEN (ALBUM)

REVIEW || CALVIN CHEATER With the release of their sophomore album Everybody Is Going To Heaven, Michigan-based alternative punk band Citizen have well and truly grown out of their ‘youth’ era, composing a far more divine and mature release than ever before. Since the band’s formation in 2009, Citizen has demonstrated their ability to progress musically with every release, from their Young States EP to the recently released Everybody Is Going To Heaven, which came out at the end of June. The new album explores a darker, more ominous approach to their song writing with eerily resonant melodic lines interweaving between the guitars and vocal harmonies. The opening two tracks from the album, ‘Cement’ and ‘Dive Into My Sun’, provide a concise impression of what to expect from the remainder of the record. Lead vocalist Mat Kerekes’ smooth vocal lines flow eloquently within the music, though his lyricism is not to go underappreciated. Every time I listen to this record, my thirst for more material intensifies. I’m already eagerly anticipating what this band, comprised of five men in their early twenties, is capable of producing from here on. 4.5/5

MUMFORD & SONS WILDER MIND (ALBUM)

REVIEW || NICK WASILIEV Marcus Mumford and Co’s decision to put down the banjos and do a Bob Dylan with an electric sound caused uproars within many diehard fans, but I looked forward to the new direction they would take. In parts of Wilder Mind, the seamless transition delivers us some of the band’s best work. ‘The Wolf’ is a standout, with ‘Just Smoke’ and ‘Cold Arms’ as nice throw-backs to previous albums. Additionally, the band successfully dips into rock experimentation with ‘Tompkins Square Park’ and ‘Believe’, a very Coldplay-inspired track. However, the remaining tracks don’t stand out particularly as a rock album or are very ground-breaking, but in typical Mumford style, they are still infectiously catchy. For me personally, I still wouldn’t mind the banjo in at least one song, but I guess old habits die hard… 3/5

GAMES most captivating game. So, if you are searching for a title with extended gameplay, keep looking. 3/5

BATMAN: ARKHAM KNIGHT

FOR PC, PS4, XBOX ONE REVIEW || NIXON CHUA The gameplay of the Batman: Arkham Knight revolves around saving a hapless, distraught city overrun by anarchy. The fighting mechanics are fluid and intuitive, immersing the player in the plot rather than the game mechanics. The graphics are phenomenal, however acts as a bit of a double-edged sword if you’re playing this game on PC as it requires rather high specifications for the game to run smoothly. If the requirements are met, the other-worldly graphics will garner respect for the folks at Rocksteady Studios. The storyline continues from the previous game, and thus, requires either a playthrough of the previous game or a quick Google search just to cover plot points. Once known, the plot of events will lead to an obsession. 4.5/5

AUDIOSURF 2

FOR PC REVIEW || NATHAN FALZON Audiosurf 2 is all about the music: you use your own songs, and those uploaded by the community to the audio surf cloud. Gameplay is similar to that of a retro car racing game with the car staying in the one place – aside from changing lanes – and the map seeming to throw itself at you. The aim is simple; collect as many bonuses as you can, and avoid as many potholes as possible. However, instead of competing against other racers, you are playing against yourself. If you want a more challenging experience, the ‘ninja’ mode transforms the game into a musical Tetris with an international scoreboard providing some tough competition for those competitive souls. The more relaxing ‘mono’ mode allows you to collect any bars and stack them to accrue points. This game is entertaining, but becomes tedious after a few hours of gameplay. It’s good value at $14.99 on Steam, and will probably entertain if you are bored. However, it’s not the

VERDUN

FOR PC, MAC REVIEW || NATHAN FALZON Verdun is a first person shooter based on the Western Front of World War I, named after one of the most gruesome battles of the war, where both the Allied and Central Powers suffered close to 1 000 000 casualties. The gruesome reality of World War I is shown through dim hues of brown and grey, and the constant drum of artillery shells battering the ground around you. The battle fields are little more than muddy quagmires, with shoddily-dug trenches being both the home, and warzone of its occupants. There is a grand campaign that shows the progress of the war: the map of the Western Front changes depending on which side has been winning the most battles. There is also a skirmish mode, where you can try out your aim by lurking in the trenches of the battlefield, and racking up headshots. In terms of weaponry, the arsenal of the game is true to the era. You can buy Smith & Wesson pistols, Winchester rifles, and, if you earn enough, even a Vickers machine gun to mow down your foes. The single-action rifles and mustard gas may annoy, or delight you, but either way, any fans of the era will appreciate the rarity of a game based on World War I. 4.5/5

REPEAT OFFENDERS || 49

HOROSCOPES

WORDS || ASWATHI NEELAKANDAN

ARIES

There is a very clear distinction between a ram and a sheep. So quit following others around Aries! You’ve got horns of your own.

TAURUS

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. It happens to the best of us, so don’t feel so bad!

GEMINI

Screen for liars. Screen for lovers. Screen for lumps. Screening will keep your anxiety at bay.

CANCER

Almost every ancient tradition involved sacrifices. And while we aren’t obliged to leave skulls for the ghosts, it is time you offered up something.

LEO

Boogie back to the days of M.J, Cyndi Lauper and the wondrous Stevie Wonder. I smell Cheezles and a super swell dance fest.

VIRGO

You are on the cusp of some truly wonderful experiences. Hold out this horrible limbo phase for a little while longer. I’m sending the elves.

50 || REPEAT OFFENDERS

LIBRA

You must overbalance criticism with affection. It is the only way to pave long-lasting happiness with your partner.

SCORPIO

The word “savings” doesn’t really register with you. That’s fine for the short term, but dreams of traveling will cost a pretty penny. Revise your life plans.

SAGITTARIUS

Neptune is in retrograde, boosting your confidence. So take out that overpriced Kathmandu rain jacket (with fleece-lined pockets) and be adventurous!

CAPRICORN

Not being able to hold your drink is different from not keeping your promises. Choose between trying harder or giving up (Hint: pick option A).

AQUARIUS

Water yourself back down to only greens and protein. A refreshing start is called for.

PISCES

Start writing in a journal every day. It’s the only way to ensure that a fabulous movie will be made about you later, after your time.

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