Paper Lens Zine #1: Secrets Circa Lies

An exploration of artworks, ideas, and the inspirational people behind them.

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Image by Rowan Heuvel at Unsplash.com | http://www.insolitus.nl/

Think you’ve got something to say?

Tell us.

Submit to paperlenszine@outlook.com

Cover art by Olivia Mroz

Paper Lens is: Shivani Anora: Co-Founder, Co-Editor, Writer, Psychological Realism Elyse Maree: Co-Founder, Co-Editor, Writer, Kinesthetic Energies Jonathan Payne: Designer, Sub-Editor Writer, Guerrilla Semanticist Olivia Mroz: Photographer, Writer, Art Director, Aesthetic Complexity

Distributed under creative commons licence.

See that glossy magazine over there?

That’s not what this is. That poetry journal and the photo book next to it?

Nope, we’re not those either. We are an independent zine available worldwide, and made by two girls who may not share a home town, but do share a love of words and ideas. We aim to provide food for thought and articles to digest.

Words to mull over and words to resonate with. Images to vomit out and images to feast on. Experiences you know and experiences you don’t.

m fro r A Lette s r e d n u o F o the C New beginnings can be scary. Starting your new job, dating a new person, moving houses, beginning a new course. But that’s the thing about life; change is inevitable, and sometimes it’s not a good thing. Redundancy, break-ups, failure. If you have no idea what you’re doing or where to go from here, any sort of change could be welcome.

When we first talked about creating a zine, we had no idea how we’d do it. Digital or in-print, or both? What’s the point of this? Name? How is it going to work if we live in two separate states? But where there’s a will, there’s a way; we were lucky enough to actually have contributors take an interest in our project and a designer actually willing to lend his talent into making Paper Lens come alive (cheers, Jon). This zine is as much theirs as it is ours.

Get into the minds of some really rad people that we interviewed, be blown away by the amazing art that our contributors have created, revel in some remarkable poetry written by equally remarkable people. We are super thankful for the people who have made all this possible.

Paper Lens is a new beginning for us and we’re excited about the future of it.

Thank you for taking the time out to read this, to be a part of our beginning in some way. We hope you stay for the journey.

Devour this zine thoughtfully.

Shivani Anora N & Elyse Maree.

Follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram at /paperlenszine

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Image by Autumn Mott at Unsplash.com | autumnmottphotography.blogspot.com.au

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Elyse Mmaree

Twenty six, feminine feline female. An optimistic spiritualist. Hope is her thing. Melbournian aka The Paris of the South. A Leo and a feminist. Buddhism and herbal tea.

Elyse has been writing since she knew how and is inspired by real life situations. She has a love for animals that overrides her love for people. Currently studying a Bachelor of Occupational Therapy in Paediatrics at Deakin University and it’s her serendipity. Dancing with the passion of her heart since she could walk and contemporary is her forte.

Elyse has 3 dogs and 3 cats and loves elephants, snakes and lions. Her dog Kia is her best friend. An independent consultant for LeReve. Pretty Little Liars is an obsession.

She’d make one hell of a make-up artist! However, she just writes beauty reviews at this point in time. Elyse’s luxurious head of hair is like a lion’s mane. Meditation and stretching is key in her life. Obsessed with Sixpenceee on Tumblr and freaks out on there more often than not. Kate Nash, Lena Dunham, Lily Allen, Emma Watson, Lorde, Zooey Deschanel and Kelly Clarkson influence Elyse and her feminism. Jennifer Lawrence and Anna Kendrick are the two celebs Elyse is similar and can relate to on all levels. Elyse needs to meet Tegan and Sara and Kate Nash before she dies. Whilst she may seem like the type to always listen to pretty music, A Day to Remember is actually her favourite band. Nutella. Favourite book: In My Skin by Kate Holden. Favourite song: Not Tonight by Tegan and Sara. Favourite movie: Moonrise Kingdom by Wes Anderson. It is what it is. Send her something super cool and/or cute @ hi.hope@live.com

Shivani Anora N Twenty-four, Cis-female, Sydney-sider. Feminist & Taurus, just.

A Hindu who knows too many pointless astrology facts, Shivani is a psychology, neuroscience, & social work graduate, & apparently a degree hoarder. Her area of focus is mental health & human rights. Shivani is fuelled by black tea & hazelnut mochas, hope & belief, people & things, chocolate & more chocolate. She is a sucker for a good poetry anthology & spends too much money on books. The Orphaned Anything’s by Stephen Christian – read it. Shivani enjoys having meowing conversations with cats, pudgy cats, cats, & more cats – cats are a bit of an obsession of hers.

She is a constant fidgeter & consequently hates watching movies, with psychological thrillers being one of only a couple exceptions. She either watches no TV or trash TV – there is no in between – but Daria might be the only exception. Given that she’s met all her favourite musicians already, if she could meet anyone (dead or alive), Shivani would meet Sylvia Plath. Science or religion – she thinks everything happens for a reason. Ask her something, tell her a story, explain your desires: shivaniandthings@live.com

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Features: 14: Critical Kink Discussion Group 18: I sign, I wander: On Being Deaf 22: Anti-social personality disorders 24: What (if anything) does Google dream of?

Artists through the Lens: 28: Kate Powell 32: Bridget Conway 34: Olivia Mroz

Poetry: 38: Jordan King-Lacroix 40: Shivani Anora N. 42: Triviana Haritharan 44: Melissa Swann 46: Bridget Conway 48: Gryphon Goodrich 50: France Marie Karlsen 52: Elyse Maree 54: Jonno/Joony 56: Ramon Loyola

Short Fic: 58: Westernport by Made Stuchbery

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Please, enjoy your stay!

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Aydin, 25, Mmelbourne

f o s n a m Hu s n e L r e Pap

Q: What do you think about abortion? Should parental consent be required if a girl is not legally an adult?

I don’t see a problem with abortion if it’s a collection of cells because a substantial consciousness wouldn’t have emerged.

Yeah, there are subtle benefits to a society where parenthood is actually planned for.

Anti-abortion has negative forces driving it, such as people who think women’s sexuality should be controlled compared to men’s, etc etc. Parental consent shouldn’t be required if a girl is underage. The girl is the one who is pregnant and deserves the choice of how she should live out her life.

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Erin, 25, Mmelbourne

For lack of a better description, abortion is an "evil necessity". The concept of it is absolutely horrendous, however I feel that often the alternative is not always a viable option. Having a child is a life-long commitment (both financially and emotionally) and adoption can also be traumatising and life changing. From my point of view, abortion is the only option for some people and at the end of the day, it is up to the individual to make a decision on what's best for them now and in the future. In an ideal world, everyone would feel comfortable enough to tell their parents about this kind of situation, however this isn't always the case. In my opinion, anyone aged 15 and below should require parental consent and although 16 is not considered legally an adult, I feel that this is an okay threshold for parental consent not to be required. In situations where parental consent is mandatory, there is the potential for this to lead to decisions being made by the parents and not the individual which can be opposite to what the person is wanting and lead to further negative implications.

I think it’s a complicated issue and something that needs to be looked at from a case-by-case standpoint. There are cases where abortion is necessary; obviously when disease comes into play then abortion should be an option. However, if you are using abortion to escape the consequences of something irresponsible (e.g., one night stand), I don’t think abortion should be allowed. Underage abortion is something different… It usually involves a lot more people than just the mother and father of the potential baby. Parental consent should probably be required in the case of underage abortion.

Jon, 32, Sydney

Kyle, 21, USA

In a perfect world, women would have complete dominion over their bodies and their means of procreation. No caveats; no ifs or buts.

Creating an environment in which women have full conscious control over their reproductive and sexual capabilities will (at least in the long run) minimise the rate of unwanted pregnancies. Contraception and education are key factors in this, as is re-examining the ideology that one needs to be having sex (constantly) to be alive. Parental consent merely blurs this issue. If an unwanted pregnancy turns into an unwanted child, then the cycle of instability continues.

Wanna have your say? Send your responses/opinions/ letters/hatemail to paperlenszine@outlook.com Paper Lens – 11

Endometriosis – an ode to pain and frustration, by Elyse Maree.

What do I know about endometriosis?

What don’t I know about endometriosis?

Endometriosis affects me in more ways than one.

Endometriosis affects me in more ways than plenty.

Endometriosis affects my. whole. life.

Endometriosis affects 1 in 10 women.

Think about it.

You might know someone with endometriosis.

She could be sitting next to you right now.

This could be your sister, your neighbour, your best friend, your mother.

Endometriosis can be, and in my experience IS, extremely painful.

And I am not talking about a dull pain here.

I am talking about a constant stabbing pain, an overwhelming pain, The type that stops you in your tracks and makes you hunch over As though someone has just stabbed you in your abdomen.

It makes you feel sick to your stomach. Literally.

It can last for minutes at a time, and let’s just say that’s only the beginning.

Sometimes the pain can last for days, And you ache for hours on end.

I once went five days with a constant stabbing pain, Popping all those nasty painkillers, Ibuprofen, naproxen, Ponstan, codeine, endone, And I still could feel that constant dull ache in my lower abdomen.

So I guess you want facts, right?

Endometriosis is hell.

Endometriosis is a disorder.

Endometriosis is a disease.

Endometriosis is an autoimmune disease Endometriosis is when the lining of your uterus - endometrial tissue - sheds, and goes INSIDE your body, rather than leaving through the outside.

This is due to the endometrial tissue being displaced inside of you, and therefore it becomes trapped.

There is no known reason as to why or how this happens.

It just does.

This tissue forms lesions and clots all over your organs located inside your abdomen.

This tissue can fuse your organs together, forming scar tissue and adhesions, leaving you with intolerable and excruciating pain.

Endometriosis is something I would never wish on anyone, not even my worst enemy.

Nobody wants endometriosis.

Educate yourself.

Maybe next time you meet someone who has endometriosis, you’ll remember the facts.

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Image by Milada Vigerova atUnsplash | www.behance.net/MiliV

Endometriosis is a serious condition which affec ts a huge number of women worldwide. If you want to read or share stories about how you cope with it, find out how you can get involved with battling this illness, or even just show some support, check out EndoActive Australia & NZ on Facebook.

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Image from wikimeadia commons | https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/21/Bondage_Cuffs_in_Traditional_Tie.png

Shivani Anora N. sat down for a chat with Mari, the organiser of Sydney’s first – and, for the moment, only – group dedicated to exploring the world of kink and BDSM through a critical lens.

Shivani: What gender do you identify as and started back in August 2014. Mostly that how does it differ from your sex? was bouncing ideas about what everyone wanted the group to do. Whilst I wasn’t Mari: I identify as genderfluid (They involved in the initial planning, the people pronouns). I was socialised and assigned that were wanted to bring a pro-kink, promale at birth and was never really taken by queer, pro-feminist approach to discussing masculinity. As a teenager I was wearing the complexities of kinky sex and kinky what would traditionally be considered lives. feminine clothing (if we’re gendering clothing) and makeup, but lacking any of In February 2015, we had our first peer-led the vocabulary or social understanding discussion group on “What is Kink?” as to consider what I was doing beyond “I an introductory session and have been feel good about myself doing this, so I’m running roughly fortnightly ever since. going to continue doing it”. After studying We meet at ACON in Surry Hills who are Sociology at uni and developing my unnice enough to let us use their conference derstanding of gender a whole lot of puzzle rooms after hours. pieces started fitting.

The attendance numbers change each S: What are you doing with your life? week, but the overall trend is definitely growth. In the early days we typically had M: Enjoying it when I can and recovering between 4 and 10 people show up and when I’m not. I’m pretty passionate about since then I think we’ve peaked at about 35 advocacy and ameliorating institutional people with around 20 being fairly stanpower imbalances, so I’m usually pretty dard for the past few months. happy doing anything relating to that.

Each fortnight we have a different topic, usually a particular ideological or deS: What angers you the most? mographic intersection with kink. Some examples that we’ve run would be “Kink M: That when you asked what I’m doing & Feminism”, “Kink & Non-Monogamy”, with my life, my first thought was what “Kink & Trans Identities”, “Kink & HetI do for work. I think that’s a pretty sad eronormativity”. We think it’s important indictment of white, middle class Western to be critically engaged with the cultural society’s normative values. spaces we inhabit, to be aware of the norms, privileges, and prejudices these S: Would you rather be famous or rich? spaces create.

Why? CKDG provides a great place for people M: Neither. I’d consider my life complete if involved or interested in kink to deconI managed to in any way aid the disman- struct these intersections and norms. tling of the idolisation of fame and money. During “Kink & Heteronormativity”, for example, we discussed the gendered S: Tell us a bit about Critical Kink Discus- prevalence of male-identifying individuals sion Group (CKDG). taking on dominant roles and female-identifying individuals taking on submissive M: The preliminary organisation of CKDG roles and how this relates to broader social

gender norms. We hope that by building our collective understanding of these interactions, we can help create a safer, more inclusive, and more diverse kink culture.

We’ve built a comfy community around the events and usually go to a local pub to get food and socialise afterwards, so it’s become a nice way to build interpersonal relationships with likeminded people.

S: What does “critical kink” mean exactly?

M: The name Critical Kink is an abbreviated description of the aim of the group, to discuss kink through various critical perspectives (e.g. feminism).

S: How did you become involved in CKDG? M: Two of my friends were the ones who started the organisation collective. I attended the first discussion group in Feb this year to check it out since I’d been active in the public kink scene for a bit over a year at that point and love deconstructing more or less anything. Afterwards, I asked them if they needed any help and have been on board ever since.

S: Do you get many new people coming along who are just curious about kink or the group itself?

M: We actually get a lot of new people each week. I’d say it’s usually half regulars and half new people. We’ve also been getting people who aren’t actively involved in kink activities but are curious, or want to better understand it all.

S: What do you think about feminists who identify as “kink-critical”?

M: It really depends on what their critical

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gender performances in the case of some- S: If it’s one thing we should know about CKDG, what would it be? one male-identifying having power over someone female-identifying, or subversive I identify as an intersectional feminist and in the case of any other combination.

M: We’ve always had our discussions facilitatI think it comes down to the structure vs ed by someone whose identity matches the agency dichotomy. focus of that particular topic. Given that we Because much of what happens in kink frequently examine a topic that involves an would be considered abusive in the abEngaging in kink is a choice, whether a sence of consent, I think feminism plays a identity of some kind (non-monogamous, person is acting out normative gender non-monosexual, trans, etc.), we like particcontinual crucial role in improving conroles or subverting them. So I feel that so sent practices and dismantling gendered ipants to hear the experiences of people who long as people are making an informed power imbalances that aren’t part of kink share that identity rather than speak for them. choice and not violating others’ boundar- activities planned by everyone particiies or consent, then they should be able to pating. As feminism has a role in greater S: What sort of topics do you discuss? make that choice. At the same time, I don’t society, it has a role in kink spaces. think choices are made in a vacuum, and M: Anything that relates to the experience of we have a culture where a lot of people will S: What are your views on polyamory and groups of people in kink and the kink scene, act out their assigned gender roles because monogamy? or the intersection of identities, ideologies, that’s the script structures, e.g. patriarchy, and kink are possible topics. So far we’ve done have given them. So whilst I support peo- M: I identify as a relationship anarchist, I “Kink & Media”, “Kink & Heteronormativity”, ple making choices that conform to those consider each interpersonal relationship I “Kink & Polyamory”, “Kink & Porn”, “Kink scripts, I wouldn’t consider it an informed have as unique and fluid, and I don’t much & Feminism”, “Kink Shaming”, amongst choice unless they were aware of the care for the existence of traditional social others, as well as a workshop on consent and coercive influence of those structures and scripts. I have no qualms about monoga- negotiation. that they have other options if they want my, but I don’t think it should be deified to choose non-gendernormative roles. as the only real way to have non-platonic S: What’s been your most memorable session Which is what I love about CKDG, it’s an relationships. Nor do I think polyamoand why? opportunity for people to broaden their ry should be deified in that way. I think understandings through peer discussion people should decide between themselves M: Now that is hard to answer! There have and empower them to make choices with what different relationships mean to them. been different sessions memorable for differmore information.

If people are being honest with each other ent reasons, and what I consider memorable and aren’t abusive then good luck to them is probably not too important since we try to I think that’s a better way of approaching in whatever interpersonal relationships emphasise the peer-led structure of the disthe potential friction between feminism cussions rather than a strictly hierarchical one. they form. and aspects of kink than to dismiss kink Our biggest turnout so far has been for “Kink outright.

I could seriously talk forever about poly/ & Mental Health”. If I was pressed I’d probably say that “Kink & Heteronormativity” was my mono.

So if by kink-critical feminists you mean personal favourite, though mostly for subject kink-negative feminists, I’d say they were S: What are your views on marriage? Do you matter reasons. problematic in the same exclusionary way want to get married? as sex worker-negative feminists.

S: How can people get involved?

M: The most compelling reason I’d have S: Is there a feminism role in critical kink? to get married is if it involved migration M: We have a closed Facebook group just Why/why not? benefits. Marriage is an institution with a called “CKDG” which people can search for lot of dirty laundry. Between having once and request to join. We also have a Fetlife M: Definitely, feminism is one of the core been a human property transaction, the group “Critical Kink Discussion Group” for philosophical lenses through which we colossal amount of misogyny, homopho- users of that site. We put up events on both critically discuss kink. It’s relevant because bia, and racism it has perpetuated, and the pages for our fortnightly discussions and gender norms exist, everywhere. Not just unnecessary and damaging social sense of usually advertise the events through various in kink, binary gender and traditionally other groups of overlapping interests. The relationship legitimacy it confers, I have associated gender roles permeate all of very little interest in ever getting married, group is non-autonomous, meaning you don’t society. The same is true in kink, activineed to be kinky to join. People are more than regardless of my relationship status. For ties such as consensual power exchange others? If it’s legal for anyone, it should be welcome to come along if they’re interested. can immediately be framed as magnified legal for everyone. interpretation of kink is, and how they represent kink to others.

I have very little interest in ever getting married, regardless of my relationship status. For others? If it’s legal for anyone, it should be legal for everyone.

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Images From top to bottom, left to right: All images from Flickr.com, J_009 by Valentina Costi; Slave licking by Lupus Photo; Jennys new red flogger-12

by Jennifer Ann; collar by grendelkhan; Bondage Lecciona by Valentina Costi, as listed above.

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Image by Rebecca (Squirrel Junkie) on Flickr.com

I Sign, I Wander: On Being Deaf Sherrie Beaver talks about the many challenges and gratifications of being part of the deaf community.

I am a Deaf person. I also have a linguistic identity, which means I have embraced Auslan as my language. I first became involved in the deaf community when I was a kid. Apparently my first Deaf party was when I was 4 weeks old!

juggling two or more identities. For example, there are deaf people who are Muslims.

There are deaf people who also identify themselves as LGBTQI. Essentially, there is a lot of intersectionality within the deaf community.

My family were always supportive of my goals and they accepted me for who I am.

They saw past my deafness and simply saw me as a human with the ability to communicate in another language.

I’ve had a quiet love life as I haven’t had much – if any – luck over the last 10 years but it doesn’t really concern me. I love being My family were single and wouldn’t have it any other way. always sup-

if I was left out if no one was signing. High school was okay. I saw it as an escape and I was quite studious. I was also a sports nut.

females. I became really comfortable with it when I was 26. I couldn’t deny it anymore and it was high time I embraced it, although it took me another two years to come out on a public scale.

portive of my goals and they accepted me for who I am.

They saw past my deafness and simply saw me as a human with the ability When I was young, being deaf impacted me Also, as a member of the deaf community to communiin many ways. I’ve been signing since I was a and a student at a high school with a high baby and I didn’t think I was any different to percentage of Muslim population, I didn’t cate in another my hearing peers but I would get frustrated feel comfortable admitting my attraction to language.

I first questioned my sexuality at 13 when Growing up in a small town was rather limit- I found myself attracted to the cute cashier ing, however, the move to Sydney at the age chick at BiLo. I questioned it again at 16 of 14 was an eye-opener. Sydney taught me after watching If These Walls Could Talk so much about diversity and multicultural- 2. I felt weird about it because it was 1998 ism and why it is important to Australia. It and 2001 respectively and the society wasn’t also taught me how to embrace my multicul- openly accepting about LGBT issues as we tural family. are today.

The deaf community makes me feel right at home. It’s incredible being around people who share the same identity and language as me, no matter where we are. The deaf community now is ever-changing. It consists of a lot of diversity. Deaf people are constantly

Moving states was one of the best decisions I have made. I made the move to Melbourne from Sydney in June 2014, and I’ve grown a lot as a person since then. Moving from SydPaper Lens – 19

Image by Ze’ev Barkan at Flickr.com

ney to Melbourne was exactly what lion deaf people around the world I needed to do in order to move do not have access to education. forward in life.

Deaf people are a part of the human diversity and should be treated Traveling is my drug – I’m shame- like equals. Deaf people have the lessly addicted. Without traveling, right to live as equal citizens.

I probably wouldn’t be the person I am today. The city that touched I am a university degree hoarder. me the most was Budapest because I’m currently studying towards a it’s rather underrated. It was the Master of International & Comfirst European city I fell in love munity Development at Deakin with. It was where I spent so much University. I hope to do a Master of time reflecting. After spending Arts in Deaf Studies at Gallaudet 12 days straight in Sofia, Bulgaria University – the world’s only libsurrounded by deaf and hard of eral arts university for deaf people hearing people around the world, where sign language is used as the it was great to completely immerse main language of instruction. myself into Budapest and enjoy being on my own. Admittedly, it My future looks exciting because I did feel weird not signing after 3 hope to be able to give back to the weeks straight; however, Budapest deaf community through research was where I reflected on my Deaf and academia. The deaf community identity and what it really means has given me so much since birth, to be a Deaf person. I have plans and I want to give back to them to travel more! I’m heading over to especially for the next generation.

USA and Canada next year.

There are a lot of gaps in research concerning the deaf community, Other than traveling, I’m passionate and I want to be able to cover them about advocating for the rights of in anthropology and Deaf Studies. deaf people. Deaf people are often In ten years’ time, I hope to be Dr. treated like second-class citizens, Beaver with a PhD in Deaf Studies and in some countries, they miss & Anthropology. out on basic human rights. According to the World Federation of the If I could change a thing or two Deaf, approximately 80% of 70 mil- about this country, I would fire

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Tony Abbott and make same-sex marriage legal. If I could let Australia know one thing, it would be that deaf people are a part of the human diversity in this country.

After I finish typing this, I am going to work on my essay that’s due in a few days. I’ll leave you with this quote: “Nothing about us without us” – Colin Allen, WFD President.

Nothing should be decided without the consent and contribution of those affected by the decision.

Sherrie Beaver is a Deaf advocate who has been actively involved in the deaf community for more than a decade in numerous voluntary positions. She is a postgraduate student with an aim to become a deaf researcher in the field of anthropology and Deaf Studies. She runs a blog entitled I sign, I wander where she focuses on her experiences living as a deaf person with topics like deaf culture, LGBT, travel and education.

She is a Potterhead who maintains that Hermione should have gotten with Draco.

Contact Sherrie at sherrie@isigniwander.com

I’m passionate about advocating for the rights of deaf people. Deaf people are often treated like second-class citizens, and in some countries, they miss out on basic human rights.

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Image by Bianca K Inglezos

Image by Thomas Sørensen at Flickr.com

Psychopaths, Sociopaths, and Antisocial Personality Disorder Shivani Anora N. Despite what Hollywood may have you think, there are notable differences between psychopaths and sociopaths.

Although the terms often become used interchangeably and frequently as a way to avoid using politically incorrect terms (“crazy”, anyone?), there has been a substantial emphasis in recent years to distinguish the two.

an adolescent (often since 15 years of age), as indicated by at least three of the following: • Failure to conform to social norms, especially in relation to the law • Deception and/or conning other individuals for personal gain or enjoyment • Impulsivity • Irritability and aggressiveness, often apparent by assaults or violence towards others • Disregard for the safety and wellbeing of others • Constant irresponsibility, often apparent in employed work and/or financially • Lack of remorse

Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) is the technical name of the psychological disorder that encompasses, and in some cases is wrongly synonymous with, psychopathy or sociopathy. According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-V), ASPD comprises of a number of tenets which Antisocial behaviour does not occur the person in question must fulfil; a pattern of disregard for and violation within the context of a manic episode of the rights of others, occurring since nor schizophrenia. The individual is an

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adult, i.e., over 18 years old.

It’s interesting to note that although Hollywood may have us believe that psychopaths and sociopaths are often violent, violence isn’t necessarily a qualifier of ASPD. That is, of course, not to say that psychopaths and sociopaths aren’t violent – remember Thomas Hemming, who killed merely to know what it felt like to do so? This is called “sensation-seeking” and is a common trait amongst psychopaths. It must be highlighted that risk is not a necessary part of sensation-seeking.

further highlighting the fact that psychopaths show little remorse; the non-psychopathic murderers could have been overcome with a desire to erase their actions out of fear and/or remorse and therefore did not wish to disclose it.

Where psychopaths are primarily defined by their inability to feel fear or remorse mostly due to complex neurological problems, sociopaths are greater influenced by their upbringing or “nurture”, adding fuel to the fire that is the “nature vs. nurture” debate.

Experts believe that sociopathy tends Experts agree that one of the crucial to be born out of childhood trauma differences between psychopaths and and/or physical or emotional abuse, as sociopaths is the general inability for they have the potential to result in an a psychopath to feel remorse after his/ emotionally withdrawn individual. her/their actions. It is believed that the amygdala, a part of the brain that Because sociopaths aren’t believed to is responsible for fear and judgement, be born with genetic wiring for ASPD is “lesioned” in psychopaths, leading traits (unlike psychopaths), they do to a desire for a sense of control. In have the ability to form (weak) bonds fact, a study in 2002 revealed that over with other individuals, and therefore 90 per cent of murders committed by have a higher chance of empathising psychopaths were carefully considered with someone. This is, in fact, not a and planned, compared to only 48.4 rare occurrence. Nevertheless, socioper cent of homicides by non-psycho- paths do have a very limited number of pathic individuals. This data is based legitimate emotional bonds with other not only on evidence but self-report, individuals.

Furthermore, when sociopaths commit crimes, they are more likely to be an impulsive decision. They tend to lack patience, differing from the calculative nature of psychopaths. It could even be argued that sociopaths act out of extreme emotion whereas psychopaths heavily rely on their intelligence.

Sociopaths tend to reveal more of their true feelings through instances of disorganisation, annoyance, and hotheadedness. A sociopath is probably less likely to successfully kill you, but is probably also less likely someone whom you’d want to be friends with.

In short, sociopaths wear their hearts on their sleeves whereas a psychopath tends to be smarter than that.

Chances are, you could know a psychopath or a sociopath. Statistics demonstrate that up to three per cent of the population could qualify for an ASPD diagnosis, so there could very well be one living in your street.

Image by Leo Reynolds at Flickr.com

Although Hollywood may have us believe that psychopaths and sociopaths are often violent, violence isn’t necessarily a qualifier of ASPD.

The dual nature of humankind has confounded great minds since the dawn of history (and, most likely before this), resulting in foundational stories and paradigmatic shifts in consciousness, from the Eden myth and Plato’s tripartite theory of the soul, Shakespeare’s relentlessly paradoxical use of language and Machiavelli’s political texts and right through to Kubrick’s oeuvre. These explorations have demonstrated some of the complex issues surrounding the disambiguation of our biology, minds and morality, as a species.

Is the DSM’s pathologisation of conditions such as sociopathy and psychopathy merely the attempt to place a more defined title on conditions that have plagued humankind for eons?

And if so, is it attempting to create solutions for the problem, or merely raising awareness that such conditions exist?

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Does Google Dream of Social Exhibitionism?

Words: Jonathan Payne Images: Anjum Hussein, filtered through Google’s deep-dream filter.

Why is it that every time I think about Google dreaming, I get an image of someone taking photos of themselves reading their kindle by candlelight in the bathtub?

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Sythetic Priorities

Searle – could have predicted.

Much of our world is swamped in struggle. Besides serious issues like starvation, deficient birth control and a lack of general infrastructure which still plague much of the developing world, we too in developed nations struggle with an overbearing work schedule which threatens to gently transform us into pen-pushing automatons.

Indeed, even those at the top of the chain in business and industry are set in the continual competition of market forces.

Survival of the fittest underlies much of our society, even as we live in a time which enjoys a deficit of explicit warfare.

But, to utilise an old idiom: every potential crisis is also a potential opportunity - whatever your view, it can be helpful to reframe our perspective on our collective purpose in life. And with the onset of automated production, it might just be time that we begin to take some time to ponder these questions more seriously.

Simultaneously, it seems people everywhere are compelled to work harder than ever before as the implementation of new technologies becomes widely commonplace. Traditional forms of work are becoming automated: we see evidence of this in supermarkets, on factory production lines, within organisation and planning roles, and even recently in creative areas like design (eg. The Grid - a platform for automated website design) and writing (with the onset of natural language generators such as Quill). Not to mention machines built for the purposes of murder without the need for human contact (at least on one side of the equation).

This doesn’t necessarily indicate that human beings are being replaced. There will always be those who need to maintain the hardware and organise the way that it’s implemented. But it’s worth considering how this shift might take place, and how those outside of the organisational structure might relate to these tools that are becoming more immediate arbiters in our lives.

The occasional burst of existential angst might be understandable in the context of the pursuit of Artificial Intelligence.

Google, and other huge players in the pursuit of a competent AI are inducing humanity (or coercing, depending on your outlook) to rethink its role in a way which few – outside the likes of groundbreaking intellectuals such as Alan Turing or John

The Internet as a closed circuit.

Let’s take a look at the Internet for a moment, given that it (as a loosely defined technological institution) has had perhaps the largest impact on our everyday social setting in the present time. What would an artificial intelligence see as its blood and bone when looking into the mirror of the world wide web?

As social media hits its peak, and redefines the way we relate to friends, acquaintances, strangers, and often potential customers, we may begin to feel as if the last function left to us as organic thinking beings might be to disconnect on occasion - to walk outside and meet with people in the flesh.

While huge shifts in social connectivity and information sharing have followed from the widespread popularity of sites like Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, their monopoly of the utility value of the Internet (at least for a majority of Internet users) may result in something of a closed circuit. The Facebook page with 5,000 connections is just that: a fine medium for interacting with others over social networks, selling/promoting business online and occasionally organising social events.

The use of Twitter or Instagram accounts (or the plethora of similar platforms like Tumblr, LinkedIn, etc.) with huge followings is perhaps even more ambiguous, besides promoting said accounts.

Does one gain any actual knowledge of people or the way they live their lives from the images and posts they show online? In a certain way, yes, but in a way that might be better thought of as a distinctly unique

and separate version of reality compared to that of ordinary life.

It’s in a similar way that we might come to understand the implementation of automated workflows. It’s difficult to fathom how the removal of jobs like checking out items in supermarkets, or serving fast food through a drive-through outlet – or really any job which can be done by a machine – is a detriment to humanity in the long run.

Visiting K-Mart lacks the appeal of going to an outdoor market. It lacks the human experience of relating to others and meeting those who craft the goods we might want. In this way, it might be best to aim for the efficiency of an automated workflow, and allow our youths the time and resources (with a little bit of infrastructural help) to have life-building experiences before they enter the full-time work force.

The immediate problems of displaced workers aside, the real issue becomes negotiating more productive ways to employ humans for the betterment of society as a whole.

With a little bit of imagination, this may be just what we need as a species.

We have a tendency today to live our lives as potential spectators of ourselves; as audience builders, whether through the stories we post online, the images we show to outsiders, and often the choice of activities we undertake and document. Building your own personal brand is almost an obligation: today you can seem like a recluse if you don’t post regularly on Facebook. You tweet so that other people still know you’re alive, so they don’t forget about you.

Has the end-point for our online socialisation become obscured beyond recognition?

Humanity: the last commodity?

This brings us back to that person sitting in the bathtub, happily snapping away pictures of their relaxed bath setting, hoping

As social media hits its peak, and redefines the way we relate to friends, acquaintances, strangers, and often potential customers, we may begin to feel as if the last function left to us as organic thinking beings might be to disconnect on occasion - to walk outside and meet with people in the flesh.

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that others on social media will respond to come out renewed and refreshed. their exhibitionism.

In a new book entitled Humans Are Underrated: What High Achievers Know First off, it’s important that I don’t give the impression that I’m against this - nor That Brilliant Machines Never Will (2015) that I haven’t done (pretty much) exactly author and columnist Geoff Colvin describes how the more personable, unique, the same thing over social media time and unpredictable aspects of humanity and time again. My point, rather, is that will likely rise to the foreground of our this sense of eternal self-promotion has become the main purpose of social media, existential selves. its final raison d’etre and in this sense it “Over and over again, smart people note stands as something of a closed circuit, or show’n’telling for its own sake. Again, the overwhelming complexity of certain nothing wrong with that, but let’s call it tasks that humans do and conclude that computers won’t be able to master them,” what it is. says Colvin, “yet it’s only a matter of time before they do.”

When we think of Google dreaming, and look at the bizarre images rendered Machines can, and probably will, outperthrough the ‘deep thinking’ algorithms form humans in any task able to be done constructed by the search conglomerin a quantifiable sense. But what’s the ate’s engineers in their ongoing pursuit point of projecting one’s great life to one’s of building synthetic neural networks, we’re reminded of a poignant fact: a lot of acquaintances and followers just to gain what we think of as distinctly human, and more followers and acquaintances? What’s especially in the sense of being something the point of outselling your competitors special, is probably able to be synthesised if the end goal is to acquire more means to outsell those same competitors? If the to some degree. resources of the planet were redistributed While we outsource our capacity for in such a way so as to promote community socialisation (specifically the type that building, care and creativity, the world appeals to marketers and politicians), we would be an intrinsically different place to might find that what’s left is to pursue live. those things that do make us truly unique and human. This might not always be the While it’s perhaps dangerous to completely abandon the competitive tasks of life things we’d want: our emotive sides are to machines who are able to do the job a murky pool at best, and sometimes we need to dig through the depths before we in less time and with greater efficiency

– and particularly when those machines are under the employ of individuals and organisations who have their own agendas – it can also be a chance for us, as individuals, to take some time out to live the lives that make us distinctly strange beings in a cosmos that few are able to take the time to understand.

Does this mean I’m planning to quit my day job, shut down all of my social media accounts and go live my life as a monk, spending my days meditating, and contemplating the universe? Of course not. It just means that from time to time, I might try to find a little moment or two to reflect upon myself as a living thinking breathing human being, one whose dreams – while maybe not unique in their function – are still able to take me to new corners of experience.

And perhaps I don’t always need to share those experiences online.

Jonathan Payne is a freelance writer and graphic designer hoping to make a living from pursuing his passion. He’s currently completing a Masters of Publishing through the University of Sydney. Contact him at corecopyau@gmail.com

If the resources of the planet were redistributed in such a way so as to promote community building, care and creativity, the world would be an intrinsically different place to live.

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Kate Powell Interview by Elyse Maree and Shivani Anora N. Kate Powell is a 20 year old illustrator based in West Yorkshire, England. She is a self-proclaimed feminist and animal cruelty activist, both of which inspire her work. She has over 20,000 likes on Facebook with a lot of her work being uploaded on katepowellart. tumblr.com. We caught up with the talented artist.

PL: What inspires your work?

Kate: I’m inspired by the amazing work of others that I find myself looking at every day, by books and words and phrases in general, by nature and music, feelings and things I feel passionate about.

of them are killed every second for food, day in, day out, constantly, and people don’t care because “mmm bacon”. It drives me insane with anger like nothing else.

PL: What’s your star sign and what do you think of astrology?

PL: Which one on your works is your K: I’m a Libra! I was never interested in star signs until Tumblr favourite and why? started randomly getting obsessed K: Probably “I tried to draw my with them, now I find them realsoul but all I could think of was ly intriguing and I love to be able flowers”. I spent about 50 hours drawing it and put a lot of my heart to identify with all the ‘traits’ of into it. I like that it’s metaphorical Libras, for some reason it makes me feel more balanced and at peace and that it illustrates a quote and labelling my personality traits as also that it includes me as I find Libra-ish, I feel like I can make drawing myself extremely theramore sense of myself. I’m definitely peutic. romantic and I think of myself as just and intellectual, but I also recPL: What angers you the most?

K: Injustice in general angers me, ognise the negative traits of laziness and being superficial. Overall I love but most of all the people who being a Libra! mock things like feminism and the #BlackLivesMatter movements when they are ignorant to just how PL: If you could own an elephant, important they are to saving peo- what would you name it and why? ple’s lives. I’m angry about how this K: I’d name it Elmer, The Patchwork world treats animals like they are Elephant. That’s the first book I rea product to be used by us and not member reading by myself in nursery and it makes me feel immensely worthy of life, the fact that 3,000 Paper Lens – 29

nostalgic.

PL: Would you rather be famous or rich? Why? K: I’m an egomaniac and I adore attention so I think I’d rather be famous, I live a happy life now without being rich but I’m always craving a louder voice so being famous would give me a platform to influence people (for the better, of course!)

and good old Yorkshire Tea with soy milk.

PL: What’s your ideal date?

K: Probably a wine picnic somewhere really remote, or a Lord of the Rings marathon.

PL: Do you like cats?

K: I absolutely adore cats; I have three called Rhubarb, Custard and Shadow. Rhubarb is a gigantic ginger tom who is just the most lovPL: What motivates you to continue ing and attention-seeking animal I’ve ever met. Cats are wonderful, doing what you do?

K: What motivates me is knowing holding one is the best anti-stress medicine in the world. that the more I draw the better I’ll get. I’m literally NEVER short of actual ideas for drawings, so I’m constantly itching to see them Kate Powell is a 19 year old artist from West Yorkshire, UK, currently realised and finished. I see other artist’s work online and it makes me studying at Leeds College of Art. ache because of how amazing it is, She is a feminist and anti animal but I find myself thinking “I want cruelty activist who uses her art to raise awareness about protecting our to make work that makes people feel like that.” I also get a buzz from planet. posting things online and getting She has amassed over 20000 likes on feedback, it’s kind of addictive.

Facebook; contact and check out her PL: What’s your favourite sort of tea? work at katepowellart.tumblr.com K: I adore chai tea, peppermint tea

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Wlifield NYuorutur re self Paper Lens – 31

(in her own words) I am a writer.

When I was young, I was always very quiet. High school was stressful. Growing up in America was an eye-opening experience. America is a diverse place but the people living there aren’t often accepting of diversity – how strange! Moving countries was difficult but totally worth it. If I could do it differently, I would prepare myself more next time!

A place that touched me the most was New Zealand because it’s got such a rich cultural heritage and beautiful landscape.

My family were supportive of my writing. I first became involved in the literature community when I was born – the written word has always been in my blood. Writing makes me feel alive; writing is life. I have self-published a poetry book back in America and have been published in a lot of online zines such as Lipmag and The Australian Times.

Other than writing, I’m passionate about animals (I love cats, especially my little one named Chappie), sci-fi (I’m a Trekkie through and through), music (especially The White Stripes, Tame Impala, and The Beatles) and cooking vegetarian feasts such as lentil curry, spicy nachos, or homemade hummus.

I have plans to forgive myself. Depression found me when I was very young. My experience with depression is a long and tough journey; it sometimes feels like it has ended, but then the beast rears its ugly head in.

2015 has been a terrible year so far, but things are getting better bit by bit.

My future looks interesting and I hope to be a force for good. In ten years’ time, I want to be known for making a positive difference in the world.

If I could change a thing or two about this country, I would change the prime minister and save the Great Barrier Reef.

If I could let Australia know one thing, it would be that it’s okay to talk about your feelings.

Having emotions is a normal part of being human, but as a society, we seem to have decided that men should be “manly” and never cry and women should feel embarrassed when they show their “womanly” weakness. This is ridiculous; emotions are beautiful, sexy, and natural.

After I finish typing this, I am going to go to work and read a book as I fly past the sun setting over Sydney harbour on the train.

Check out Bridget’s literary adventures at https://www.facebook.com/bridgetconwaywrites

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Image by Hardy Truong

On passion, her work and ... also her three cats.

Interview by Elyse Maree and Shivani Anora N.

PL: What inspires your work?

PL: What are the names of your Olivia: Memories, anxiety, psychol- cats and how did you come up with ogy, fashion, sex, oddities, females. them?

O: All three are adopted! Thyme PL: Who is your favourite photogra- my grumpy old orange man, he’s pher? my baby. I came up with his name O: Ooo I couldn't just pick one! so long ago I don't even remember!

Some of my favourites are Pat Echo - she's the princess of the Brassington, Nobuyoshi Araki and three and really fluffy and allllways Polly Borland! sleeps on her back. Her previous owner called her Dodo but I wasn't PL: Who inspires you? a fan so changed it. I think it was O: Anyone who follows their pas- from a clone that was in a show I sion (as cheesy as that sounds) was watching at the time or something?? Baby - she's an anxiety cat PL: What are your influences for with a giggly tum! I call her my your work? girlfriend. I kept her name.

O: Refer to the answers above.

PL: If you could be anyone PL: What do you think about Miley else in the world, who Cyrus? would it be and why?

O: I like her more than dislike her. O: I don’t think I would I don't dislike her. I don't really want to be anyone else. I have an opinion. She does her own have so many things to be thing, owns it and I like that. grateful for being me.

PL: What is your star sign?

O: Leo

PL: What is your favourite movie, and favourite book?

PL: What do you think about astrol- O: Movie: Girl, Interruptogy? ed or Moulin Rouge or O: I used to read into it a lot more The Secretary. Book: I than I do now. forgot what it’s called! I think it was ‘Daddy’s LitPL: What is your favourite tea? tle Secret’ or something.

O: Chamomile!!

PL: What is it exactly that PL: Do you like cats? you want to portray with O: Obviously - I have three! your photographs and your work, and how do 34 – Paper Lens

you actually do that?

O: In one word: beauty - but not in the usual sense though. And originality, haha.

PL: What motivates you to continue doing what you do?

O: I couldn't see myself being happy doing anything else. I have to do what I do.

PL: Among your works, which one is your favourite? Why? O: Probably a black and white portrait from my series ‘Hidden Secrets’ that I shot in Penang, Malaysia.

PL: What do you envision your life will be like in 10 years?

O: Successful, healthy, full of love and surrounded by family and friends!

PL: Do you have any exhibitions and/or shows coming up soon?

Details?

O: I’m curating a show that’s showing in two weeks! I just had some work shown in Penang, Malaysia AND in November my grad show will be on!!!! Yay! PL: If you could own an elephant, what would you name it and why?

O: Little Foot - because of Land Before Time!

Olivia is a 26 year old photography student. Studying at PSC (Photography Studies College) in Melbourne, Victoria. A Leo and a cat enthusiast.

She’s Elyse’s favourite person in the world and you can check out more of her extraordinary photography at http://www.oliviamroz.com .

I don’t think I would want to be anyone else. I have so many things to be grateful for being me.

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forever. .

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Check out more of Olivia’s amazing work over at www.oliviamroz.com

entangled in you

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burning behind his eyes. cracking and screaming and singing, the sounds of life, sprang from his mouth, spilling them over the world. these were his gifts. his fingers stretched out, grabbing existence by the neck, throttling all he could from its fighting grasp; stamping his feet in time to a cyclical rhythm. and just as he came, he was gone, sprouting wings for to fly to brighter shores, more steady beneath him. the silence left burst eardrums, tears fell in rivers. no one knew if he planned to return, forever waiting, until, one day, his feathers and ashes came floating in the wind, spreading over the people, soaking into them, intertwining them, a blanket to warm them, protect them. the wind was cold, but they were safe and he was listening, 38 – Paper Lens

mountain

his mind with endless colours, fires forever

– Jordan King-Lacroix

the winds and clouds whip about him, flushing

The

a body like a mountain, he stands solitary.

Image by Dustin Scarpitti at Unsplash | http://dustyblanco.vsco.co/

listening for the stories he might tell in his next life.

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heretic – Shivani Anora N.

admired & afar, his beauty became a childlike caricature of his defiantly devious demeanour. euphoric ecstasy found its feathers, flying him 'til gravity grounded gushes of his history on my helpless hips, his insanity insistent on injecting juvenile judgments into my kingdom, killing love & leaving lust, as malleable memories manoeuvre my mind near never-ending nausea. oh, other-worldly oppression, please place me at peace! a qualm quickens the riot rising in the rosebud refuge of my ribcage, sand spreading through the time-glass (my time-glass) underneath the vile vagrant with wicked wings, wanting water in xerarch.

Illustration by Samantha Gempton

yes, i yowl, yes zeus.

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Andante – Trivarna Hariharan

silence.

1. we don't talk to each other from across the room. you call it habituation, but I don't think it's that.

2. i still remember how you had once insisted we did away with the barricades that partitioned the room into two.

There are none now.

But we still feel claustrophobic.

3. The silent metronomes of our hearts sound familiar.

Perhaps it's raining outside.

4. I open the windows to let the breeze pour in. I can't hear you over the phone. You're talking too loud.

5. Silence subsides, but only outside. The breeze has turned into a wind.

That's all.

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Half Light – Melissa Swann

I. You can’t see the sky from here; the blinds across the windows have long since been drawn.

The waning sunlight struggles to find a way through their slits. The few persistent rays that weasel their way into the room are fading fast – dusk drains them of breath, bold yellows softening, paling.

You watch them as they go.

II. Purple now, a bashful lilac so far from the near black of nightfall, so innocent you can hardly think to place it between the loud oranges of late afternoon and the bold blues of early evening.

This is a strange time, a detached state of in-between; neither here nor there, and yet, compelled to scurry away when you blink.

III. All too soon, it’s gone, and your body feels heavier than before.

You can’t see the sky, though you know it is dark, shifting through infinite stages of grey and blue until they mix and meld into what you might call black.

But you know better.

IV. You know that moonlight, though it refuses to shine through the blinds, sheds enough light to find deeper shades hiding amongst the dark; folding through.

Blues and purples - within and without, far removed from that limbo of afternoon and evening.

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Three Days in Three Mmonths – Bridget Conway

June 24

July 28

August 12

I want all of you to become me, and all of me to become you

The bustling crowd in my head Push past

How strange and delicate Are the songs that play their routine?

In sunglass haze iPhone strained necks Sore fingers

On the side of metal tracks that whisk me away Towards sea and sand to skies and land This ongoing life

But it’s impossible to type what I want to say Language for how I feel doesn’t exist Language is clunky and silly This text messaging is stupid I want to exist in you And dream away the hours, gaze up at the universe that’s brimming of us And our milky dreams And be in awe of the pure splendour of life itself And you reciprocated My nightmares squashed into all oblivion Your arms holding every cell of me And your grace with beauty onto the centre stage of our show A script like flowers dancing in the breeze Of whispers and promises Take a bow And so will I

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Along the assembly line of life What are you worth?

Emotional overeating comes first in the heavy space, then flesh comes down Peels off the stringent wall Of fire and tyres collapsed Here the wheels spin over and over towards the end of itself

It dwells with the pillars in Town Hall station and lingers in cracks left by strangers In 100 years we will all be dead and who will replace our steps and trace the spines of our legacy This country and its belongings shed like snakeskin against the bright morning dew And all I want is you And to say This is our world and we must hold it in our palms gently now Or lose the moment that flutters past To the tracks and the path of this metal monster This faithful servant This tune that persists

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Aedh of Clay - Gryphon Goodrich

red Man sets down fire.

Casts in shadow a deer’s life

footprints all over the plain. Sunrise mimics his eyes if they twinkle like stars do.

Wind-spun, his unsharpened hair loosely calls out dances a geometer’s dream in catharsis of triangles.

It cannot be gold: not heavy enough.

Instead it is something like wood-grain, peacock’s shimmer or the speckle of sandstone marble.

In his web he gives the wind opacity and line. Compressive waves are suddenly visible.

Force is given light atop his crown.

So call me dust with sharp and hot cloud-cracking.

Strike me through and be remembered as glass.

One line, long

fragile and unmoving.

I’ll shear away darkness and harsher lights as an iris. Squeezing muscled blades of specked color.

My fire cuts life: tender flank from shadows’ silicate bone.

When my red vessel is finished baking I will break against the land and return, a champion wave bearing gifts of silt in return.

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Raven Tea Leaves – France Marie Karlsen

Raven beaks and blue sunsets Decorate the rim of this mug, I hold I am watching your future unfold In the bottom of my tea cup Full of crushed up leaves My eyelashes created when I first saw Your long legs and feet cross the water bank To paint the insides of my eyelids, Pink instead of red A crimson colour, I find myself afraid of letting go for once When I have spend many-amoon, wishing for pink ‘Cause the devil's sunshine is my home His death metal music calms the chemicals in my blood And torment is the song, inspiring my feet to dance In sin not the peace, I see you’re trying to hide In your big blue eyes One of the Grimm brothers is now, twisting up a fairytale inside my head and chest Ariel is a mute girl who killed herself She didn’t end up marrying the fair prince She was a mermaid like I was once With blue and green scales That glistened in the smiling rain Where innocence was a mask I could wear easily Once upon a time when the story was much different And all endings had a happily ever after arc And I am suddenly out of tea

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You’re going to get hurt The tea leaves say when I brew a second batch Of evergreen mint and poison ivy I find growing in the folds of my toes You’ve placed me on a pedestal in your mind And I can’t remember a day where I wasn’t I’ve chained myself willingly by the ankles Wrists resting calmly in a padlock above my head I’ll be there when you need me You are going to hurt him There is a bird in the bottom of my tea cup It looks like a crow and the smudge beside it, looks like a scythe I am going to let you down Your trust, I can smell it, it’s becoming a part of my pillow And the clothes, I am stealing when you are not looking for comfort When you’re not there beside me Your kiss my eyelids while I sleep The softness, manipulating the angry reds with splotches of pink And my heart wants to eat itself alive And the tea leaves in my belly are punching my insides With shouts of nausea I cannot sleep I love you, you whisper Let him go, the leaves shiver in warning I can’t The evergreen mint leaves vanish There is just poison ivy, growing by the truckloads One by one, I hack them off my skin Burdened with rashes and a thousand selfish thoughts I am watching your future unfold today And the devil’s light is speaking to me The impending pain is trembling inside a promising cage Please go His pitch forked tongue is lisping mine to sway Please forget you’ve ever met me But with his unwritten love songs The devil is here to stay We are not friends You’re lying And so am I Paper Lens – 51

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(untitled) – Jonno/Joony

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The Gatherer – Ramon Loyola

i collect sunlight rays and rays of it and keep them in a jar hidden under the bed when the night sets in and the shadows creep i open the jar to let the rays run outside abreast with the grey shade the light illuminates your face i like it when it glows in the dark i harvest stars multitudes of them (every shape— diamond and opal and pearl and quartz and points and rounds) i keep them in a pouch hidden under the pillow when midnight comes around and the clouds obscure the moon i tear up the pouch to release the stars and let them twinkle ablaze across the sky the flame dances around your body i like it when it’s lithe in the night i catch memories blithe and precious and lock them in a box hidden in the upstairs attic when the days roll by and sadness pierces the veil i unlock the box to let the thoughts wash over me akin to a friendly touch 56 – Paper Lens

the invisible caress remembers my skin i like it when it tingles in the wind i save wishes at once good and bad and keep them in my pocket hidden within my chest when strangers are mean-hearted and life is smarting i uncover the pocket to bring out the whims and let them hide my thoughts like whispers unheard the urge prompts my mind i like it when it’s wistful in my midst i gather dreams the coloured and layered ones and roll them in a bottle hidden behind the door when indifference knocks and doubt swallows me i uncork the bottle to pour out the mysteries and lead me to answers as in fables and tales the fantasy enlightens your image i like it when it’s clear in my dream

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Westernport

by Made Stuchbery

58 – Paper Lens

There was an old pub nestled close against the shaley beach, and the pub was white from age and from the salt of the sea. From the window of this pub where the young man sat alone at the bar, you could see the ships rolling into the harbour, their work out on the sea done for the day. The sun was punctured in places by the jagged silhouette of the cliffs that embraced the port, their tips shining bright like blackened, gold tipped teeth. Night was falling with such speed the wind that rushed across the waves towards the shore seemed to pull the great darkness of the night down like a hand pulls a blind across a window.

The young man lifted a hand to gesture for another beer. He was in a small, seaside town. Looking around him as he waited for his drink, he observed his fellow patrons, drinking, playing pool, watching a sports match on the dim, flickering television in the corner of the room. They all had a white crusting of salt and freckles across the expanse of their faces. The salted air appeared to have corroded the faces and minds of all the people who lived there. If their hair had not been blonde to begin with, the sun shortly took care of that, giving them all the same white, brittle locks. All of the people looked like siblings; children of the sea.

The man pulling his pint was a great old warship of a man; his hair was snow white and the skin on his broad arms was brown and pocked by freckles and moles. Each time he moved his arms up and down, back and forth, he creaked like a wooden vessel tossed about on the sea. The pint that he poured had far too much head on it for the young man’s liking. There was a solid inch of foam atop the golden brew. He drank it anyway, despairing in humanity, or maybe just the company in which he was surrounded by.

The young man lived on the coast, in this small town by the sea. He lived in the town, but he did not want to.

In the winter the winds that blew across the straight cut like glass cut right to the bone. The men who fished on the huge trawler boats said that the winds travelled right from the tundras of Antarctica. He never believed the fishermen. In the summer, the winds stopped coming and the tourists came. Big, fat, lolling people from the city who rolled into town with bulging wallets and tumescent flesh. Around their necks they carried cameras, and they wore their opinions and their thoughts proudly upon their faces and their chests like badges of honour. There was nothing honourable about their facetious consumption and urbanised impatience at the slower paces of the small seaside town. Each summer, he withdrew within his cool house, drawing all the curtains. He created within his own four walls a winter all of his own. Like a crab with a smooth, safe shell. Occasionally, in the evenings when the sun was setting and the temperature dropped, he would emerge from his safe house, his mouth dry, and he would venture up the road to the white pub on the corner, and he would sit down at the bar and he would drink and drink and drink. Tonight was no exception.

There were two men, hunters, maybe fishermen, standing next to the young man. They stood there at the bar, as bold as brass wearing denim shirts and dirtied boots. They were talking loudly, too loudly, about hunting, or something. Ice cubes clinked against the sides of their glasses and the amber liquid within was tossed about like the sea. The young man hated them, and their soiled boots and their bombastic discourse. He gnashed his teeth and gripped his glass, raising it to his face and draining the contents. Drink gone. Hands empty. The young man turned to order another drink. His elbow knocked his wallet off the counter and onto the stale, sticky floor at the precise moment a woman walked in through the front doors of the establishment and sauntered up towards the bar.

The ground seemed to shift; to quiver and tremble as she pushed open both of the doors with her hands and enter the building. None of the other patrons seemed to notice her presence, but the young man did. He felt as though the apocalypse were descending upon him; the ground on fire; his heart fit to burst. The woman Paper Lens – 59

walked to the bar, and stood next to him. The young man, still on his knees on the floor, looked up at her; pathetic, hunched on the ground like a fawn. He rose slowly to look at her. The woman stood squarely on her feet next to him, with a solidarity and surety beyond her years. Shoulders back, chin raised defiantly; she looked ready to challenge anyone who dared even look sideways at her. He thought that she looked sad, the kind of sad that doesn’t want to be noticed. Then she glanced at him sideways, through thick hooded lids and he felt something like a fire in his face that compelled him to look away. She ordered her drink, and the young man averted his gaze, staring instead at his hands grasping his drink. He was no longer looking at her, but he could feel her. She turned, and walked away.

The young man spun around on his seat to watch her. She sat down on a bench, alone. Lifting the glass to her mouth and sipping, alone. How curious, he thought. He had never noticed her in the bar before. She walked boldly, taking long, sure strides almost like a man, but her hands were different. Lithe. Unyielding yet somehow forgiving and fragile. He noticed how they didn’t seem to fit the rest of her body. They seemed destructive enough to be able to crush the glass clenched in her hand yet soft enough to turn the broken shards into glossy grains of sand. A Queen of contrasts. As he drank, dipping his head down into his glass, he found that his eyes readily returned to the woman. He emptied his glass, and ordered another. The air inside the pub was thick and hot, and seemed to slow down the passing of time within the white, salt crusted walls. The sun had now set.

The two hunters were on their third jug of beer. Their voices were louder than ever; their bombastic discourse penetrating the solitude of the young man’s thoughts. It even felt as though they had moved further down the bar, away from the door and towards the young man. He imagined that he could smell blood on their clothes.

Their voices rang out like a foghorn in the night.

“You should have seen it mate, this deer was just running, running like a demon, right alongside the truck.

Stupid buck. But beautiful. I raised the bore of my gun and sunk about three bullets into it. And you know the best bit? That stupid animal just kept running. Just kept running until it could run no more.” Beer glass down on the counter. Small trembles in the wood. The young man gripped his glass ever tighter, the men laughed even louder.

His friend, the smaller of the two hunters, laughed loud and stupid. “Maybe you’re not such a good shot as you think you are. Are you sure you even hit it?”

“Are you kidding me? The first shot alone should have taken it down. It just kept running! That’s how stupid it was. I had to slit its throat to kill it, in the end.” The first hunter, the taller man, noticed the young man. He tried to include him in the discussion.

“You, mate, you ever kill an animal? Let me pour you a beer.” He leaned over, and poured a swill of warm, cloudy beer into the young man’s nearly empty glass. The beer was lager; the young man had been drinking ale. The two drinks swirled together in a foamy mess. The young man was instantly flushed with anger.

“No,” he replied coolly, “I can’t say that I have.”

The taller hunter baulked. The smaller one laughed.

“Never? Never been hunting?” The young man shook his head. “Fishing?” Another shake of the head. “Well, what do you do with yourself all day?”

The young man did not answer. He kept his head down. Fist gripping his glass. The air felt thick; a tropical storm brewing; thunderclaps on the horizon and the promise of rain. The voices around his a dull murmur.

Beer warm. Shirt sticking to his back. He wanted to leave this place. He wanted these goddamn hunters to stop their talking and their movements and their stupid, meaty mouths moving and their breaths short and shallow; panicky, flighty breaths that made the young man feel anxious and tired. He had enough.

“STOP. Shut up. Stop it!” The young man turned around, spun on his seat, and looked at the hunters.

“I’m not in the habit of making small talk with idiotic, violent, strange men, and I’m not about to start now.

So if you will excuse me…”

He did not get to finished his sentence. The taller hunter, whose hands earlier that day had raised a silver blade to the throat of a buck deer and sliced it open to the world, now reached out to the young man and grabbed him by the shirt. He reeked of hops and malt and sweat and sawdust. The young man was wrenched 60 – Paper Lens

off his seat. He felt frightened, but he also experienced a blissful relief; a euphoric release. His feet were no longer touching the ground. The hunter was shaking him; there was a tightness around his throat at the young man was waiting for the pain, waiting for the darkness to follow and waiting for his excuse to leave this god awful place. The glass he was drinking had fallen from his hand and was now lying in pieces on the ground, glinting in the night. The hunter spat in his face. “You little, sad, mad,” he growled at the young man.

The young man could not help but think that this was the lone intelligent thing that the hunter had said all night.

“Hey.” The voice was low and controlled; almost hot. It wasn’t a shout, but the sound pierced the sounds of their scuffle. Both the men turned to look at the voice.

It was the woman. The one who had ordered her drink when the young man had dropped his wallet. The woman walked towards them. Slowly. She moved like death. Sex rolling in her hips and hair like a dark hood over her face. Lips. Red. Blood. Fire. She was like an animal. There was something prehistoric in her movements. The hunter still had his hands gripped tight on the collar of the young man’s shirt, but the closer she got to him, the more loose his hands became. The hunter, destined to become the hunted. A fist snapped back, arms moved, and those strong, potent hands of hers reached out through the darkness of the night and the smog of beer to wrench the hunter away from the young man and pull him right off the ground. She pushed him in the chest; those two hands that hand shunted open the doors to the bar now cracking down on the hunter’s sternum so hard the young man felt a tectonic shift. The hunter began to fall; the whites of his eyes shining bright in the night like the white heart of a fire.

For a man so ugly he fell so beautifully. Backwards. Slowly. A deck of cards fluttering towards the ground. A concave silver spoon shining in the night. His hands flew up as the rest of his body was drawn down to the ground, spine bending and scrumming to gravity; the ground calling to him. He fell, and he landed. On his back on the floor of the pub by the sea, the hunter’s fists clenched and his eyes burned with fury as he looked up at the woman who had hurled him towards the earth. He wanted to scream; to reach up and to slit her throat open like he had done to the buck earlier in the evening. But her gaze down at him on the ground made him wither, and he let his hands fall back down onto the ground beside him, and he could feel his shirt sticking to the stale beer entrenched in the wood of the floor as he watched on from below. She seemed to grow bigger before his eyes. He watched the fire woman reach out and grab the young man, who suddenly seemed so thin and lithe in the aftermath of the scuffle. The woman reached out, and in a swift, concise move, hoisted him up in her arms and positioned him over her shoulder.

Claiming her prize for the night, she walked through the people; now silent and staring, and towards the door. With a foot she gently kicked open the front doors to the pub, and sauntered out into the night. The darkness engulfed her, and in an instant she was gone. The doors remained open; a gawping mouth in the night. From somewhere in the darkness, thunder began to roll across the cliffs towards the shore. The children of the sea sat in silence.

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Read: Lucky (1999) – Alice Sebold Lucky is a memoir by the author of The Lovely Bones (2002). It details the horrific events of her rape as an eighteen year old college student and the events following it that led to the sentencing of her rapist. Although her main focus during the rape was to survive, she could not have anticipated its life-shattering after-effects. The book’s title comes from the ignorant words of a police officer who told her that she was “lucky” compared to another girl who had been beaten, raped, and murdered in the same spot.

Browse: Quiet Revolution – www.quietrev.com With the aim being to “unlock the power of introverts for the benefit of us all”, this website provides articles which highlight the strengths of introverts, real-life stories of “quiet revolutionaries”, a personality quiz to determine whether you’re an introvert, extrovert, or ambivert, and many other things to provide you with food for thought.

Watch: Holding the Man (2015) The movie adaptation of the book by the same name, Holding the Man is a true story that explores the romantic relationship of two Australian men in a time - 1976 - when homosexuality was highly condemned. After both being diagnosed with HIV in 1985, the story draws to a tragic conclusion after death claims the life of the narrator’s lover.

Listen: Every Open Eye (2015) – Chvrches The pressure to follow up a universally well received debut album is something many artists feel, but in the case of Chvrches, they handle it perfectly. Every Open Eye is a collection of addictive melodies, with a sound that doesn’t deviate too far from The Bones of What You Believe (2013), Chvrches’ debut album.

Do: Sydney Underground Film Festival – http://suff.com.au/ Launched in 2007, the Sydney Underground Film Festival aims to provide an outlet for fringe film-makers who operate outside of the mainstream industry. Their final event for 2015, #SECRETCINEMA is being held on 12 November at a location in Annandale yet to be revealed. And while they’re not revealing much more about what’s being shown, we’re pretty sure it’ll be something that will push the boundaries and expand the minds of viewers.

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And now, for no reason heres a picture of our official sponsor/mascot, Beau.

So, that’s the first issue of Paper Lens Zine. First off, we’d like to give a huge thanks to all of the contributors and interviewees who shared themselves and sent us amazing material to work with. Without all of you, this wouldn’t have been possible, and would be ultimately meaningless. We also know that this production is kinda low budget, and is still sorta finding it’s feet, but we hope you, the reader (if indeed you exist) appreciate to some small degree the effort of putting together a grass-roots exploration of art and artists, even if for no other reason than to share words or images that inspire us (and with any luck, inspire you too). So a big shout out to our potential (and hopefully growing) audience. Thank you for making it this far! Please come back for more (and share it with your family/friends/pets).

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Image by Gioia Fabbri at Unsplash