CATALYST: 'ET.AL', Issue 2, Volume 70

issue two ‘et.al’

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CATALYST editors

Catalyst Issue two, volume 70 April 2014

Alan Weedon Allison Worrall Broede Carmody

rmitcatalyst@gmail.com rmitcatalyst.com @rmitcatalyst Catalyst is proud to acknowledge that this

magazine was produced on the traditional lands of the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin nation.

editorial committee Alexander Darling Ally McManus Amelia Theodorakis Beth Gibson Cameron Magusic David Ross Denham Sadler Ellijahna Victoria Emily Westmoreland Finbar O’Mallon Jasmin Ashton Jo Burnell Jordyn Butler Joshua Allen Kara Gibbons Melissa Di Giacomo Michael Walsh Richard Ferguson Roman Kennedy Rushani Epa Sam Cucchiara Samantha Winnicki Sarah Maunder Yara Murray-Atfield

We pay our respects to their elders, both past and present. We also acknowledge the traditional owners of all the lands from which the stories and artworks in this issue were sourced.

Special thanks to Elwyn Murray, Andrei Ghoukassian, Shana Schultz, Sally Christiansen, Kara Gibbons, Amanda Crane, the squirrel money tin, chocolatecovered almonds, our family and significant others.

Catalyst is the student magazine of

the RMIT University Student Union (RUSU). The views expressed herein are not necessarily those of the editors, printers or RUSU. All material remains the property of the individual writers and artists. Catalyst reserves the right to republish in any format. Š 2014 RMIT University Student Union

subeditors

proofreaders

visual artists

Beth Gibson David Ross Joshua Allen Jo Burnell Melissa Di Giacomo Roman Kennedy Samantha Winnicki Sam Cucchiara Richard Ferguson Rushani Epa Yara Murray-Atfield

Beth Gibson Yara Murray-Atfield

Alan Weedon Angie Pai Brett Hutton Izabella Staskowski Jack Callil Jordan Drysdale

printers

cover images

logo design

editorial photo

Paterson Press Tripart Marketing Pty Ltd PO Box 189 Richmond VIC 3000 Ph: (03) 9429 8999 sales@patyork.com.au

Angie Pai Jordan Drysdale

Lachlan Siu

Angie Pai

Hey there, Generation Y. Waddup. Lol. How’s your fancy iPhone and bad spelling and general impoliteness? What about your sexual rampaging, spoilt upbringing and laziness? How’s that all going for you?

According to a lot of older, more experienced generations bursting at the seams with wisdom and self-importance, Gen Y represents nothing more than a good reason to shake their heads. “In my day,” they cry.

Well, we think that’s bullshit.

Things change and people adapt to their surroundings. Besides, we are, quite literally, a product of the older generations anyway.

So it makes no sense to whinge about the generation you nurtured in your womb, ballsack or test tube.

One of the more recent reasons to bag out Gen Y has been online dating and the rise of dating apps. Grindr and Tinder are our latest bad habit, symbolic of our shallow personalities and quick-to-judge nature. We don’t even know how to find people in real life situations anymore. We’re living through screens and fake, virtual realities! And by god, don’t even get me started on porn.

Well, lucky for you—Catalyst doesn’t agree with any of that. And the work that is published in every issue of this magazine is a testament to a generation that is hard-working, creative, curious and intelligent. While not all of our readership or

contributors fall into the Gen Y bracket, the majority do. And the majority aren’t arrogant, unmotivated arseholes. In mainstream media, we’re often tarred with this brush and it’s one of the many stereotypes society boxes people into.

The theme for this issue of Catalyst is ‘et al’, meaning ‘and others’. What you’ll find in the pages of this magazine are stories that stray away from the mainstream narratives we often find elsewhere. We walk in the steps of a counselor, of an 80-year-old luthier, of a struggling theatre director and of a young person with Asperger’s Syndrome.

We read about the realities of sharehouse living in Preston, conspiracy theories and why Tinder is not indicative of a generation that supposedly can’t maintain meaningful relationships. We aim to tell the stories that no-one else is.

That’s the beauty of being a student magazine. We’re made by you, et al.

With Love, The Eds Allison Worrall, Broede Carmody and Alan Weedon.

editors’ note

1 1

4 4 The number of children in Australian detention facilities.

%

26

The number of Australians born overseas.

3 50 0

The estimated number of Australians under the age of 60 currently living in nursing homes because there is inadequate care and housing facilities for them elsewhere.

N U M B E R C R U N C H

1

4

The number of prisoners in Australia who are Indigenous. The percentage of Indigenous Australians in the wider population: 2.5%.

64

The average number of days a woman will have to work extra per year in order to earn the amount a man does for the same role.

30 4 0% The estimated percentage of queer youth who have attempted suicide at least once.

1 2

12 17 19 18 27 29

32 34 42 44 46 48

The Show Must Go On Beth Gibson Asperger’s: A feature not a fashion Anonymous Who Counsels the Counsellors?

Isobelle Waller Touch Me, Tinderly Eloise Florence Last Of The Luthiers James Di Fabrizio Gen Rent Alexander Darling

C O N T E N T S

Hello, My Name Is Oliver Joshua Allen Rainbow Tv Richard Ferguson Christening The Backyard Michael Walsh Sex Overseas SLM Two Pens, One Book Emily Westmoreland Who Run The World Samantha Winnicki

Textbooks, Course Materials, Merchandise.

City: 17-25 Little La Trobe Street.

Bundoora: Building 202, Level 2

Shop online at www.rmit.edu.au/store CAMPUS STORE

3 4

52

A Requiem For All The Things I Should Have Said Francesca Di Stefano Killer Whales Izzy Roberts-Orr Two Smokers On A Sunny Morning Scott Woodard

53 54

21 22 36 48

Irony Brett Hutton Paperdrip Jack Callil Basquiat: Photo Essay Jordyn Drysdale and Angie Pai Blue Izabella Staskowski

RMIT University has announced plans to renovate the heart of its city campus, at an estimated cost of $600 million.

The university’s New Academic Street will include upgrades to Buildings 8, 10, 12 and 14, as well as major redevelopments to RMIT’s Swanston Street facade.

According to a statement on the RMIT website, students and staff in Buildings 8, 10, 12 and 14 are experiencing “traffic bottlenecks, growing demand on lifts and narrow entrances at street level”.

While the project has not been formally approved, RMIT Council endorsed the design, development and contract tender stage at its December meeting last year.

“We have received approval to complete design and documentation, and are currently in approvals phase for the next steps beyond documentation,” said Liz Davies from RMIT Property Services. “Until approvals are complete I cannot comment on whether or not the project will progress.”

Davies said the project team is about halfway through the design phase. “We have spaces generally agreed and now we are working on details like facades, materials and finishes.”

A decision on the whether preparation works will be approved is expected at RMIT council meeting in May. “We would like to make the most of the 2014 Christmas break period, however this decision will rest with RMIT council,” Davies said.

President of the RMIT University Student Union James Michelmore told Catalyst he hoped the university would consider students’ feedback when designing the new buildings.

“As I understand it, student consultation [for the project] has been drawn from wider student feedback over a number of years,” he said. “The university collects a great deal of information from its students and staff through many channels and this is then used to inform the planners and architects.”

Michelmore also said he was pleased with RUSU’s attempts to increase wheelchair accessibility in

SAM CUCCHIARA

the buildings under redevelopment.

“The university has taken this on board and the renovations will see extensive improvements to accessibility and elevators from the Swanston Street side.”

Architect firm Lyons, who designed the award-winning Swanston Academic Building, has been appointed lead architects on the project and will work in collaboration with four other Melbourne companies.

Director Carey Lyons told Catalyst the design would cement RMIT’s reputation of having a unique urban campus.

“The New Academic Street project involves the complete remaking of the student and library spaces at the centre of the campus—particularly at Bowen Street and the current library levels,” he said.

“One of the primary ideas behind the design is to create major new and direct links between Swanston Street and Bowen Street. Within these spaces there will be new retail facilities, and a totally new student services hub.

“The project will also transform the existing grey and concrete block buildings along Swanston Street.”

As well as the Swanston Library, the buildings under redevelopment house the student union offices, RMIT gym and cafeteria.

Michelmore said consultation with stakeholders such as RUSU had only been in the form of “needs-analysis and not on any proposed renovations and facilities”.

@samcucciara

NEWS

Plans for ‘New Academic Street’ well underway

New laws to prevent student protests

Victorian transport concession for international students welcomed

ELLIJAHNA VICTORIA

The cost of living for international students will soon drop thanks to the Victorian Government allowing international students to purchase annual public transport concession cards from 2015.

The three-year trial will allow international students to travel on public transport for half price—however this excludes other concession fare types such as weekly and monthly passes. Previously, international students were denied concession cards which allowed them to travel at a discounted rate.

In a statement, Victorian Minister for Public Transport Terry Mulder said the initiative will make international students feel even more welcome when they come to

DENHAM SADLER

study in Victoria and enhance the state’s reputation as a world-leading international student city.

“An overseas student will now save up to $1105 per year travelling across the greater city of Melbourne,” he said. The annual myki pass with a concession rate could cost up to $1000.

International student Fiona Do, 19, says she spends a minimum of $60 per week on public transport.

“I don’t live in the city and have to travel to work into the city nearly every day so I spend a lot on travelling costs,” she said. “I don’t earn much and it’s expensive.”

The move has been welcomed by universities, including RMIT.

New protest laws passed by the Victorian Upper House last month could impact the right of university students to protest peacefully.

The changes give police greater powers to order protesters to “move on”. Those who do not obey these orders could face a $720 fine or jail time.

The Summary Offences and Sentencing Amendment Bill 2013,

which passed with a vote of 20–18, allows police to “move on” individuals for reasons including a fear of violence, obstructing traffic or blocking a person from lawfully entering or leaving a premises.

It is the first time prison sentences have been associated with move-on powers, Maurice Blackburn Lawyers associate Lizzie O’Shea, says.

“It gives police greater powers,” she said. “Ultimately, if enough move on orders are

“RMIT has been lobbying the State Government for many years for transport concessions to international students,” said RMIT Dean of Students Professor Owen Huges.

International student concessions will be available in all metropolitan zones as well as regional centres and will apply to trams, buses and trains.

International education is Victoria’s largest single export, worth over $4.3 billion annually.

issued, you could face a jail sentence for breaching them.”

The new laws will come into effect on 1 September. The legislative changes address the ongoing picket protest preventing drilling for the East–West Tunnel project in Melbourne, but there are also concerns they will be used to break up other forms of public demonstration.

According to National Tertiary Education Union delegate Liam Ward, the legislation could also be used to prevent peaceful protesting by university students.

“They’re atrocious,” he said. “They essentially remove the right to protest. They’re an absolute attack on civil liberties and should be resisted down the line. They’re clearly targeted at cracking down on protests in Melbourne.”

O’Shea says the laws are “troubling” for university protests.

@EllijahnaVic

“The bottom line is there’s less protection for that kind of protest than there was previously,” she said. “It’s pretty troubling for anyone who has an interest in the right to freedom of association and the right to protest, which I think are bedrocks of our democratic system.”

Ward says more protests are required to combat the changes.

“I think the way to defeat these laws and maintain our right to protest is to do exactly what we did to win those rights in the first place, which is protesting for the right to protest.”

@denhamsadler

1 emma do

beginning

The show must go on

BET H GIBSON

13

This is a story about Lynne Ellis. You might not have heard of Lynne, or her theatre-loving gang of student actors. They are often hiding out in the Link Arts & Culture office, doing theatrical things like pretending metal sieves and plastic tongs are breasts and genitals. Plus, you would know if you had met Lynne because when you do, you feel like you’ve just scored a new BFF. This is her story: the story of a battler on the fringes of RMIT, fighting for an oddball group of students and the place they call home—the Kaleide Theatre.

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Act one: Dirty Beasts and Revolting Rhymes

When Lynne first came to RMIT in October 1988, student theatre was in danger of becoming dominated by student reviews. “There was a strong feminist feeling at RMIT at that time,” says Lynne, “and the girls were sick of donning heels and lipstick and kicking their legs about for a few hours.” The antidote? Some Dirty Beasts and Revolting Rhymes.

Sue McClements, then in charge of student theatre, had secured the rights to the Roald Dahl poems, but needed someone to weave them into a narrative. She knew of Lynne through La Mama Theatre and invited her to come on as a director. Dahl came to see the show, even though he was sick and had already cancelled half his book tour in Australia. In 2012 Lynne told The Age, “He loved it and said, ‘It makes my tour look like a mausoleum. When I’m writing my books this is how I imagine it would be.’’’

Dirty Beasts and Revolting Rhymes was the first of Lynne’s kids’ shows, which ran every year for 25 years until they ended two years ago.

Lynne adapted countless children’s books for the stage and paid RMIT students to perform for thousands of kids over the Christmas holidays. In 2012, Lynne adapted Andy Griffith’s Just Doomed series for what was to be the last ever kids’ show. Griffith later said that Lynne’s “amazing, anarchic energy” heavily influenced his writing. Holly Clark, an RMIT student who acted in Just Doomed, said that it was “one of the best experiences of my life”.

harness the skills of students from all RMIT courses, from sound design, film and fashion, to photography and architecture.

Her achievements have been possible largely because of easy access to the RMITowned Kaleide Theatre, which sits opposite the Link Arts & Culture office on Swanston Street.

Until 2007, the only fully-equipped theatre space on campus was run by the RMIT Union, a now non-existent body that once employed more than 300 people to not only run the Arts and Sport & Rec programs (now under Link Arts and Culture), but also subsidise the cafeteria, lawyers and dentists among other things. Its sole focus was improving the student experience. The Union employed someone to run the Kaleide Theatre full-time and Lynne had a key, which both physically and symbolically gave her autonomy over the space.

But after 2007, things began to change. The RMIT Union was disbanded after the Howard government abolished compulsory student union fees, and the fate of the Kaleide was unclear.

Lynne calls this the “grey period”. Management of the theatre fell first into the hands of the university’s Property Services and, while Lynne stopped having direct control over the theatre, she kept the key and still had first preference.

Then in 2012, the theatre changed hands again, this time coming under a new university division called University Events and Venues, also known as Events Management. According to their webpage, the division is responsible for “the planning, management, implementation and publicising of major events hosted by RMIT University”.

Basically, they look after the schmoozing and boozing of high-profile deans. They have no obvious connection to student theatre, nor does their focus lie with student wellbeing.

Act three: Robots on campus Act two: Changing hands

Lynne, now 62, was born in England and trained at the well-known Dartington College of the Arts. She’s worked in every theatre in England (including the West End), she was a performer in the infamous Kiss International Theatre Research Ensemble and has directed more than 50 new Australian plays at beloved Melbourne institution, La Mama Theatre. From 1988, Lynne has thrown herself into her job as RMIT student theatre director. Her shows welcome anyone who wants to perform, and

When Lynne returned from a holiday in England in August 2012, something was wrong.

“I had a pile of costumes thrown in the office that had been in a space in the theatre. Events Management had been created and all the rules had changed.” She would now have to pay $100 per hour to use the space, and at all times be supervised by a technician. She was no longer permitted to have a key. When she later calculated the costs for an upcoming show— including rehearsals, dress rehearsals and set construction—it came to over $50,000. It was too much for the Link Arts and Culture budget.

The effects of this change became clear when rehearsals for Rossum’s Universal Robots, which was staged in the second half of last year, began (I acted in this production, my first

Act four: Dear Mr University

Lynne was once in the running for a similar position at Melbourne University. Not only was there a much larger salary, but the job also included a full-time technician, lighting designer, props manager and set designer, plus the opportunity for student workshops and internships, and many free theatre spaces.

But when asked why she wanted to work at Melbourne University, Lynne realised she didn’t want to take the job. “There’s just something special about RMIT students. They’re unique, not just academic but doers with real practical skills, exciting and risky. I love that—I couldn’t give the RMIT students up.”

And she wasn’t going to give up on them this time either, so she developed a plan with the best tools she had—creativity and a touch of crazy. Late last year, Lynne sent a message to

15

with Lynne). We rehearsed mostly in the Link Arts and Culture office and sometimes in a small room next to the theatre. During most of these rehearsals the Kaleide was empty, but Lynne no longer had any rights to the space.

When we finally did use the Kaleide—four days before opening night—we quickly reworked the performance to accommodate a larger, less forgiving space. Lynne says, “Students, many of whom had never performed before, were up there with a bunch of props they’d never acted with, navigating a backstage they didn’t know.”

It became impossible for students to use the space for their own creative initiatives.

“Holly and I decided it would be cool to put on a show ourselves while Lynne was away,” recalls Kayzar Bhathawalla, a recent RMIT photography graduate now studying communication design. At the end of 2012, he contacted the university about using the Kaleide and was told they would “have to book it out like anyone else” and pay the full fee. “I then asked if there were any rooms available for us to rehearse in, and apparently no spaces could be found to accommodate us.”

During the same period, the university cut funding for the kids’ show. Tim Smith, the senior manager of the RMIT Link program at that time, said that it didn’t encourage enough student participation.

On the final night of Rossum’s Universal Robots, Lynne made a speech. Broaching on tears, she told the audience that she worried universities were beginning to view students as robots, as a means to an end, rather than valuing and nurturing them as human beings.

How could Lynne show them what she saw— individuals who needed a place in the university to be themselves?

Act five: There’s no place like home past students and asked them to write a letter outlining the impact student theatre had on their university experience. Lynne received over 30 letters in response.

Robert D Jordan, who studied a BA in Animation and Interaction Media and now works for the theatre as a sound designer, summed up many when he wrote of the theatre: “It changed my life.” Many said the skills they learnt helped them get jobs in a variety of professions. One student, who under Lynne’s guidance created her own RMIT theatre collective, now earns a living running art projects. “I learnt how to independently produce my own works, to lead teams, to design budgets, to meet deadlines, to market myself.”

What these students gained from the theatre program they simply couldn’t find elsewhere at RMIT. Megan Harwood (BA in Advertising, 2012) said the university was “very disappointing in terms of building any kind of community spirit”. Holly Clark (BA in Professional Communications, 2013) said she felt lost until she met Lynne and “could be myself again, loudly and proudly”.

For these students, the Kaleide became a “refuge from the anxiety and structure of tertiary education” and a “haven from the bustle and chaos outside in the city streets” (Jack McLardie, BA in Photography, 2013).

What they studied varied—from engineering to information technology to social work— but the Kaleide brought them together as a “theatre for anybody who wants to be a part of it” (Jane E Thompson, BA in Fashion, 2006).

It was the depth of experience they had with Lynne that made student theatre matter. And it was the Kaleide Theatre that enabled that community to work.

Lynne took these letters to a meeting late last year and argued her case against the $100 fee, and for greater autonomy over the theatre. The meeting was largely successful.

The university won’t confirm it changed its policy, but told Catalyst in a statement: “RMIT registered student clubs and societies can book the Kaleide Theatre at no hire cost during normal operating hours. The charge for use by clubs outside these times is to cover staffing costs … and is lower than the commercial hire rate.” This was a big change for Lynne. The letter campaign had—it seemed—succeeded.

But things are still far from perfect. The theatre is still controlled by Events Management.

When Lynne books rehearsals she has no guarantee the space will be free, or that any space will be available. Most other universities— including Monash and Melbourne—offer free and accessible theatre spaces.

All this brings up a broader question: does the university invest enough into the student experience outside the classroom? Do they value programs like Lynne’s, and if so, wouldn’t it be better if these programs were invested in appropriately so they could make a larger contribution to the university experience?

When I ask Lynne what her vision for the theatre is, she overflows with enthusiasm.

“I’d love to start up a mentoring program.

Interested students could work with set designers, sound engineers, and costume makers—gaining valuable experience in their field of study.” She’d also love to help students put on their own plays and theatre programs. She recently did a workshop with international students using theatre techniques to help them improve their confidence and presentation skills, and would love to do more of them too.

Most of all,Lynne wants to re-establish the theatre as a place where more students can escape from the formality of day-to-day university life. “It is not enough to assume that university life totally revolves around the brain, a small table, a computer and interaction through a mobile phone,” says Lynne. Creative freedom and expression are things Lynne values above all. They may be difficult to measure, but—if the letters are anything to go by—they matter too.

Now in its 13th year, Snatches is a medley of short works written mostly by RMIT students and student alumni and performed by RMIT students.

The show will run at the end of May. For more information visit www.rmit.edu.au/students/ arts-culture or visit Lynne in person at the Link Arts and Culture office, Building 8 Level 2.

Asperger’s: a feature, not a fashion

A NO NYMO US

17

I have Asperger’s Syndrome. It’s a condition on the autism spectrum that means social interactions and nonverbal communication don’t come naturally to me, and I tend to have strong interests in very specific subjects.

My parents recognised these symptoms, and I was diagnosed at an early age, so I spent many weekends of my childhood sitting in social skills classes.

While working hard to meet social standards, I noticed how public awareness of Asperger’s was increasing.

This is a good thing, given that the more people who know about Asperger’s and the importance of early intervention, the more people with this diagnosis will—like me—be able to overcome their difficulties and be more included in the wider community.

But Asperger’s Syndrome hasn’t just become acknowledged in the last few years: it’s become popular too.

Generally, this has not been a good thing.

Fuelled by the stereotype of adorable social awkwardness and prodigious intellectual brilliance (Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton and Bill Gates are thought to have Asperger’s), Asperger’s has become the fashion of the moment for mothers boasting of how their kids are “little geniuses” and people with “fake Asperger’s”, who self-diagnose so they have an excuse for being socially inappropriate.

Science writer Jane McCredie described her experiences with the Asperger’s zeitgeist in an article for the Medical Journal of Australia last year: A few years ago, I attended an international autism conference... It was my first in-depth encounter with ‘Aspie pride’, the wearing of an Asperger’s diagnosis as a badge of honour, an indication of superior intellectual function. In fact, several speakers at the conference referred somewhat dismissively to those of us not on the autism spectrum as ‘neurotypicals’.

I’ve since come across people who

include their Asperger’s status in email signatures alongside professional qualifications, as though being an ‘engineer with Asperger’s’ makes them, by definition, better at that craft. A quick Google search will produce a huge array of merchandise bearing the same message, including t-shirts with slogans such as ‘Today’s autistic kid is tomorrow’s genius’.

Popular culture seems all too happy to reinforce the cliches of Asperger’s: no TV sit-com seems to be complete without a brainy weirdo that can’t understand sarcasm or tact and finds social interaction frustrating and downright bewildering (Glee, Big Bang Theory, I’m looking at you).

Meanwhile, RMIT’s current favorite son Graeme Simsion has made a fortune hackneying these over-the-top stereotypes in his book and soon-to-be film The Rosie Project.

An excerpt from it reads: “But I’m not good at understanding what other people want.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” said Rosie for no obvious reason.

I quickly searched my mind for an interesting fact. “Ahhh… The testicles of drone bees and wasp spiders explode during sex.”

The problem with the stereotypes surrounding Asperger’s (as with all stereotypes) is that they give people who are actually diagnosed with the condition and challenged by it in everyday life little chance of being accepted by society.

The best thing that can be given to anyone trying to overcome their problems with social behavior is a chance to hone their skills with tolerant people.

I was blessed with that chance by all the people I consider my friends.

But I worry now that more people are being denied the same chance because everyone thinks they’ll be stuck with a Sheldon Cooper or Don Tillman if they try talking to a person who has Asperger’s.

The fact is, not all people with Asperger’s show all these stereotypical characteristics. Some people with Asperger’s do and, though this makes them different, they’re not incompatible with the rest of the human race.

As with different cultures, races and religions, people on the spectrum are more similar to ‘normal’ people than they are different, and society would be far less colourful without their input.

This is why it’s encouraging that Asperger’s is now referred to as an Autism Spectrum Disorder. Instead of being pigeonholed as a certain group, people with autistic disorders occupy a broad range.

They now have the potential to rise above the stereotypes, and be their own unique selves that deserve to be embraced by society.

Eventually, I hope Autism Spectrum Disorders are seen neither as an advantage nor a sickness, but simply a feature that makes people unique and interesting.

Because when you think about it, if everyone was good at socialising and making small talk, no-one would be.

Bazinga.

Who counsels the counsellors?

ISO BELLE WA LLER

19

“She sat there shaking even after she’d been told to go home,” says Ruth. “It made her question what kind of a therapist she was. She’d done everything right, but ultimately we don’t have control over people’s lives.”

This scene isn’t that uncommon in the break rooms of mental health institutions all over Australia. Ruth happened to stumble upon a colleague on her way out—a woman who had just received a call to let her know a client of hers had committed suicide.

This woman had done everything her training recommended. She had run a risk assessment and determined that he was not jobless, homeless, addicted to alcohol or drugs, had never been institutionalised and had no history of self harm. She had also referred the man to a psychiatrist and spoken to her supervisors. Despite all this, Ruth’s colleague felt she had failed in her duty as a counsellor.

Suicide isn’t the only issue that affects mental health professionals— any traumatic event brought to them by a client can cause distress. In university, some counsellors and psychologists do a subject on self-care, which teaches them to separate themselves from clients.

While empathy is essential to their work, therapists have to learn where the line is between themselves and others.

Ruth stresses that everyone has different methods of self-care, and that a lot of it involves exploring one’s own life experience.

“For example if a practitioner had recently lost a child, they might find it difficult to counsel a couple who’ve recently had a miscarriage. The basic premise of self-care is that you need to stay centred and make sure that you don’t get engulfed by the very big temptation to find the clients allconsuming—especially in a crisis.”

However, Ruth says that some form of empathy is essential to all mental health professionals, and conversely, to their patients.

“People often ask if I have children.

They like to know that I’m married, and they like to know if I’ve got some life experiences that are similar to theirs,” she says.

While a good psychologist is required to empathise—perhaps drawing on past experience to do so—it can also be their downfall, causing them to internalise the problems of their clients.

So where do counsellors turn for help? Australian standards require psychologists and counsellors to undergo a minimum of 10 hours of supervision a year. These are sessions where a therapist details their patient load, what kind of techniques they’re employing and the problems they’re encountering. Ruth’s company, which she mentions is quite generous in this area, provides monthly supervision.

She also gets four sessions a year with a psychologist, as well as a manager who is available to call 24 hours a day.

One psychologist who is specifically trained to counsel others in the profession is Doctor Theresa. She sees roughly 25 therapists a month. Her clients are often referred to her through their practices or companies, though some seek her out privately. Therapists visit her to get counselling for their personal problems, and supervision for their problems with clients—although certain confidentiality rules still apply.

“For some people it can be quite problematic as to where the boundaries

20

between therapy and supervision are,” she says. “But if you’re able to create a space for a therapist to be able to bring some of their personal material to supervision, it means you’re getting the best of both worlds.”

Often, Theresa says her work involves reviewing healthy boundaries between therapists and their clients.

For example, therapists can sometimes have a “strong reaction” to a client and it’s useful to explore why this happens.

Mostly, it’s because the therapist wants someone else to review their technique or help diagnose a client.

“Often therapists get quite frustrated, saying things like ‘I’m doing everything I can, and this client’s not improving’,” says Theresa.

Together they work to create what she terms “adaptive-compartmentalisation”, which involves creating a healthy space to think about the client.

“If they’re actually really worrying about a client, that can indicate to me that there’s either something personal that’s being triggered for that therapist, or that there’s a level of over-empathising or over-caring. And of course that can lead to what we call compassion fatigue... It can ultimately lead to a burn out, but we’re always working to avoid that.”

Not every therapist is so fortunate with their support systems. Nikita

As Theresa says, this is a terrible foundation for future work.

“Most of the clinical psychologists that are trained these days, they don’t do any work on themselves at all. Therapists in training should be encouraged to do their own psychological work.”

Nikita worked in a specific type of behavioural therapy for autistic children, known as Applied Behavioural Analysis. She described it as a “Pavlovian technique” where the children were treated with food or experiences they enjoyed, once they had completed a set task like sitting still for 15 minutes.

“If the behaviour that we were after wasn’t presented initially or without conflict, then it was a very fear-based command that would happen after that.”

She details sessions in which children as young as two went through sessions of four hours five days a week, often breaking down as a result of the therapy.

Eventually, Nikita left the practice, as she believed these techniques “weren’t ethically sound” and that fearbased techniques—while having some positive outcomes—weren’t a long-term way to reach a child. Although there was a lot of discussion with senior therapists, they were never open to her concerns. She felt stressed and conflicted after leaving work, dwelling on her clients and her methods. After her supervision period ended, she felt so distressed that she couldn’t attend her first interview and has never returned to psychology.

There are some people in there that should never be doing the work—either they’ve got serious psychological issues, or no empathy

Oakden is a 23-year-old psychologist who now works as a waitress, partly because of a lack of support and discussion. She specialises in child psychology, specifically with children on the autism spectrum. She recalls one subject at university where they were taught “basic interactions and interpersonal skills”, but that there wasn’t any form of self-counselling.

“We just had to go in there, do what we had to do, and cope with it,” she says.

“We weren’t taught any specific skills to separate ourselves, or [our] problems from the client. At all.”

Problems in sessions often follow therapists home— whether in a negative or positive way. Theresa explains that this is a normal reaction, but that all therapists need to be mindful.

“I’m driving home and I’ll allow myself to think about work for 10 or 15 minutes, but then I’m going to leave it behind.”

Ruth says that clients sometimes come to mind throughout the week as she considers their next step. Occasionally, her reactions to what goes on during therapy can be quite distressing.

“I have once pulled over the car, feeling physically ill. I’ve definitely cried. Therapists unfortunately do feel anxiety and suffering alongside their clients,” she says.

However, mental issues aren’t the only things that follow therapists home. Patients frequently threaten psychologists and counsellors with

physical harm. They can encounter harassing telephone calls and emails, threats, stalking—and can even be attacked at work or in their homes.

The company that Ruth works for, which has dozens of offices Australia -wide, underwent a security change in many of its locations over the last two years.

“After the last scare, our company completely changed its security. I would say it’s similar to a bank,” she says, explaining the glass screen, automatic roller doors and key pass system. “We have a security button. We’re supposed to sit close to the door, although that isn’t always practical.”

Unfortunately, supervision and counselling sessions for therapists can hardly be considered a safe environment either. The current system requires Theresa or any other professional counselling a therapist to report them if they are considered “unfit for work”.

This basically means any psychological or physical condition that impairs their ability to do their job.

“It doesn’t exactly create a safe space,” says Theresa, who is angry that her clients are forced to present only their “best side” and are often unable to work on appropriate issues.

“I don’t think we should be mandated to dob our colleagues in, I think that’s disgraceful.”

Australian psychologists and counsellors need a safe space for counselling, and their own training to instil healthy boundaries. The first therapists—students under Freud and Jung—were required to go through two years of psychoanalysis before they were allowed to practice.

“It’s absolutely outrageous really,” says Theresa. “There are some people in there that should never be doing the work—either they’ve got serious psychological issues, or no empathy.”

Good therapists exist, of course, but there are some who simply fall through the cracks of the system.

Although mandatory supervision is seen as important, it’s clear that open discussions, healthier boundaries and appropriate training in self-care is what the industry sorely needs.

Ruth and Theresa’s names have been changed to protect their privacy.

@Isobelle_W

by

brett hutton

21

IRONY

jack callil

23

Touch me, Tinderly ELO ISE F LO RENC E

24

It usually starts as a game.

You hear about it from a friend, wonder what it’s like, download it and have a few swipes and a few laughs. You get excited when you get a match and chuckle at the lame attempts at flirting or the horrible photos.

“If you were yoghurt, I’d spoon you.”

“I feel Art Attack is a vital shared interest.”

Thus goes many young people’s first encounter with Tinder, the online dating app that has captured the hearts and minds of twenty-somethings and signaled a change in the way we meet people. The app finds other users within a certain distance of you, and provides five pictures and a plethora of interests gleaned from a Facebook account.

In recent months, there’s been a stir of concern across the media after the take-off of apps like Tinder. Many worry that it is yet another symptom of a generation obsessed with appearances and unable to create meaningful relationships. The word ‘sleaze’ is tossed around like clothes in a one-night-stand.

But what is Tinder really like, and is it just a place for random, strings-free sex?

“He’s not the kind of person I would have met without Tinder.

Not because we’re not good together, but because we’re in totally different worlds. If you only ever date in your own little pocket, it doesn’t always go the best.”

Laura has a very positive outlook on the app—she has been seeing someone she met on Tinder for about two months now, and is just “crazy about him”.

“I know Tinder has a bad reputation, but apart from the sleazy people I honestly don’t think it’s that different to seeing someone in the bar and going, ‘You look nice, I’m gunna try and talk to you.’

“I could meet you at work, and I could start hanging out with you, and you could be a complete creep,” Laura says. “Face-to-face stuff can be sleazy too.”

Tinder follows on the heels of Grindr, which became wildly popular in the gay community after its launch in 2009. However, it is generally seen as more of a ‘sex sat-nav’ than a dating app.

Both Tinder and Grindr have both been criticised for being too much like a game due to their effortless simplicity: swipe right if you like someone, swipe

left if you don’t. This decision can be made in an instant— making a judgment based on their first picture—or it can be made more carefully by looking through other photos and shared interests and Facebook friends.

Alex, a frequent Tinder user, insists that judging people on their appearance brings nothing new to the way he would meet potential partners in ‘traditional’ situations.

“When you’re in a bar you don’t go, ‘Ooh I can hear her conversation, she sounds intelligent, let’s go and talk to her.’ It’s more like, ‘She’s hot.

Done. Waddup?’”

Tinder and Grindr bring nothing new to a world of one night stands, fuck-buddies and random hookups. Gen Y exists in a social space where such interactions are being complimented and challenged by technology and media, and it is causing some concern, not just within the ranks of frightened baby boomers.

“Once you get addicted, you lose so many social skills,” says Xavier. He uses Grindr to find random hook-ups and casual

25 sex, but will go out to a bar if he is after something more substantial.

“You go out to a gay club, and the amount of guys that are on it!

And you’re thinking, ‘You’re in a club with people, socialising and with your friends. Why can’t you just go over and say, ‘Hi, how’re you going? Do you wanna get a drink?’”

According to Dr Lauren Rosewarne, a senior lecturer at the University of Melbourne and expert in pop culture and sexuality, there is a key change that technology is bringing to relationships.

“The internet … has changed the concept of intimacy in the sense that people can become incredibly close to someone who they may have ‘contact’ with every day but who they may never, ever meet in real life.”

Rosewarne says this has also altered our definition of intimacy. “The word no longer has to describe someone we are in contact with in a flesh-andblood sense.”

This is clearly reflected in the way that Alex and another Tinder user Megan chatted to each other on their first ‘IRL’ (in real life) date, which I was lucky

“When you’re in a bar you don’t go, ‘Ooh I can hear her conversation, she sounds intelligent, let’s go and talk to her.’ It’s more like, ‘She’s hot.

Done. Waddup?’”

enough to witness.

“We’re clearly comfortable as shit around each other because I feel I already know her,” said Alex, who had met Megan through Tinder but had been chatting on Facebook for months before their coffee date that day.

Megan says that Facebook is a big factor in building a relationship that began on Tinder.

“I would never ever meet up with someone that I’d met on this app without going through Facebook first, just so I have that reassurance that I’m not meeting up with some random.”

Megan is also interested in girls, and found it easier to find female dates on Tinder than in bars or through friends. Many people I spoke to said the app allows them to gauge a person before having the pressure of a face-to-face interaction, which can do wonders for people with social anxiety.

It seems that the use of these apps will depend almost solely on what the user wants to get out of the experience—whether you want

to wind up picking up your next significant other or picking up your undies off the bedroom floor.

“One of the first things I’m asked on Grindr is, ‘What are you looking for? What are you into?’” says Xavier.

Laura says this honesty can be helpful, but also confronting.

“There was one guy who added me on Facebook, and the first thing he did was send me a photo of his nether regions,” says Laura. “So I was just like, ‘Delete. I don’t want that, thank you.’ So, you know, his intentions were quite clear.”

Gen Y are experts at getting what they want, particularly with technology. Tinder and Grindr may well be just the next step towards a more digitised society, but it remains to be seen what this will mean for sex and intimacy in the future.

In the meantime, wwjust keep swiping.

@EllieCFlorence

alan weedon

26

gen rent

A LEXA NDER DA RLING

“It might not be the most ideal location,” she says, “but it’s a start and I guess that’s what you need at the end of the day.”

Sarah lives with her parents, using the rent to repay the bank loan she used to buy the unit. Meanwhile, the money from her two jobs goes towards her everyday expenses.

Although an investment property and not her place of residence, Sarah’s apartment is still an achievement— bought and owned at a time when the housing market is becoming less accessible to first-home buyers and, in particular, Gen Y. In the past year alone, first-home buyer levels have fallen to a record low, while house prices in Melbourne have climbed 8.5%. This has sent median house values soaring to a near-record $625,000, more than seven times the median income.

Melbourne is now one of the world’s least affordable cities to live in, with data from the State Department of Planning showing house prices have nearly tripled since 2000. In the same time, figures from the Institute of Health and Welfare suggest the annual median disposable income has only risen by 57%.

The uneven rise in earnings and house prices is only partly to blame for Gen Y being locked out of the housing market.

According to Dr Wendy Stone, director of the Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute (AHURI) at Swinburne University, other factors are at play.

“There’s a squeeze on Gen Y home buyers from almost all directions,” Dr says. She references the deregulation of the labour and housing sectors in the ’80s, which have since made it difficult for young people to find secure employment—making them less attractive to banks when trying to borrow money for home ownership.

She also says Gen Y is being pushed out of home ownership by Baby Boomers, who have a greater capacity than in previous decades to invest in private home ownership—driving house prices up even further.

“It’s a wicked problem really,” she says. “Because as well as competing against investors, wealthy retirees and other first-home buyers for housing,

members of Gen Y are also forced into competing with each other in the private rental sector.

“And the housing price-hike has actually pushed up rent as well, so young people are finding it more difficult than ever to pay rent and save for a deposit on a house at the same time.”

Like many industry experts, Dr Stone subscribes to the theory that a large percentage of Gen Y will spend their whole lives renting privately, a phenomenon known as perma-renting or Generation Rent.

However, she maintains home ownership is the preferred option in Australia, because the renting alternative is “quite unattractive in the long term”.

“Long-term private renters tend to have lower rates of satisfaction with their financial situation and their community than homeowners,” she says.

Sarah says she definitely felt a sense of achievement after buying her apartment. Her friend Kate would also rather buy her own place than rent when she moves out of home for good.

A 28-year-old part-time receptionist between degrees, Kate considered moving out of her parents’ home last year with her sister, but says she decided not to commit to anything before having a better economic plan.

“It’s a big financial commitment, a lot of my pay would be going into rent and bills if I moved,” says Kate.

While she believes renting is still a transitional phase to home ownership, she admits that may not be the norm in coming years.

Just what “the norm” is for owning a property is already debatable within Gen Y. While Kate thinks it’s terrible she hasn’t moved out at her age, Sarah is more forgiving: “I don’t think people in their twenties and thirties are expected to own a home anymore.”

Dr Stone agrees there is no standard for when people in Gen Y should have their own property, just as there’s no typical way to become a home owner.

“I think it’s a time for really lateral solutions to housing issues,” she says.

“I think we’ll start to see adaptive behaviors in Gen Y. For example, siblings and friends could buy houses together as multiple purchasers.”

Sarah says saving was one of the things that really helped her secure enough money for a deposit just a year after she decided she wanted a property, but Dr Stone views the saving model as “interesting and contentious”.

“Reigning in expenditure is definitely something people need to do when saving for a deposit, but the fact is Gen Y has to save more for property than previous generations had to, so it helps but only to an extent.”

More recently, young people have been entering the housing market using negative gearing. This is where a person buys a property—typically a unit—while still living at home, often going into debt to do so. They then move into the property once the debt is paid off and they have enough money to support themselves.

Sarah is one such person in a position to use negative gearing as a path to home ownership, and says she may look into this strategy in coming months as part of her long-term housing future. But while negative gearing is definitely a “lateral” solution, Dr Stone says its effectiveness is also restricted.

“Even to be an investor you need to be able to afford deposits and stamp duties, so it only works for people who have some money to start with.”

Ultimately, Sarah and Dr Stone ag-ree that there isn’t any “right” way to buy your first home.

“I think people should look at what’s out there, maybe speak to people already on the property market and pick up little tips. But really it’s about whatever works for you,” says Sarah.

“Everyone’s different and you can’t just say one thing will work for everyone when it comes to finding a home.”

Dr Stone, meanwhile, has this advice for young people looking to buy a home one day: “It’s not all bad when it comes to housing, but it’s a difficult situation and young people should definitely think creatively with each other about strategies for securing a good home base for life.”

Sarah’s name has been changed for privacy reasons.

@DarlingS343096

27

Sarah has rented out an apartment in Noble Park for two years now.“It might not be the most ideal location,” she says, “but it’s a start and I guess that’s what you need at the end of the day.”

alan weedon

Last of the luthiers JA MES DI FA BRIZIO

29

In a rustic shed-come-workshop, behind an unassuming house in Seaford, exists the home of some of the finest handmade guitars in the country

Walking through the door, the smell of sawdust is rich in the air.

Filled with old tools and timber, works in progress hang on the wall as a beautifully shimmering mother-ofpearl adorned guitar catches my eye.

Noticing this, Merv Cargill, who has just turned 84-years-old, proudly lifts it from the wall and turns it over for me to see. Since building this shed 6o years ago, he has forged a reputation as one of Australia’s most quietly influential and respected luthiers (someone who makes or repairs string instruments) and has spent his lifetime perfecting the craft.

Cargill’s journey with the guitar began in 1942. During wartime, it became impossible to buy guitars in Australia, as luxury imports from overseas came to an abrupt halt.

Noticing the gap in the market was savvy businessman and banjo player, Hec McLennan. McLennan had plans to create Australia’s first major guitar brand and production factory, Pacific Guitars.

To help him with this vision, McLennan had visited a local high school to scout for an apprentice.

With top marks in his woodwork class, Cargill was called into the principal’s office to meet him.

“Come up after school and we’ll show you the set-up. We’ll trial you for a couple of weeks. Then if you’re interested we’ll keep you on,” says Cargill, recalling the fateful offer made to him.

Cargill flourished in his apprenticeship at Pacific, learning from master luthier and mentor, Colin Butt.

Butt was so skilled that he could reverse engineer designs from existing guitars for Pacific.

“One day Hec came in and gave Collin his Gibson L-5 and J200,” says Cargill. “Collin pulled them apart, got the thickness of the fronts and the backs and put them all back together so well you wouldn’t even know they’d come apart. He was that good. He was a great guy... I finished my apprenticeship with him in five years and sadly after that he got very ill and passed away.”

As the demand for Pacific Guitars

skyrocketed, Cargill needed to make use of every trick Collin had taught him.

“We were making hundreds of guitars a week,” he remembers. “We could barely make enough of them.”

The eventual import of Japanesemade guitars 10 years after Pacific Guitars was founded created a ruthlessly competitive market that Cargill and McLennan couldn’t beat.

Their time and labour intensive process meant they had to sell their guitars at a higher price.

“A guitar was imported and sold for three pounds, case and all. They had all the fancy inlays and everything. Ours were going for four pounds and we just couldn’t compete.”

McLennan had no choice but to close the factory doors of Pacific, and Cargill was left without a job. Unfazed, he decided to pursue his love for the craft and forge his own way in the industry.

In 1952, Cargill decided to take his experience and channel it into opening his own workshop at the back of his home in Seaford. It is from this workshop that the Cargill name really started to take off. “Without reputation, you’ve got nothing. If you don’t make a name for yourself, then you won’t get anywhere,” he says.

This reputation travelled fast across the country, with Angus Young of AC/ DC and Billy Thorpe often coming in, asking Cargill to wield his Midas touch on their prized guitars.

The Cargill name became synonymous with quality. So much so, that even Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin took notice. Page was in Australia for the first time with his band when the back pickup on his famous Les Paul guitar blew up mid-gig. Thinking he would need to send it back to America to get it fixed, someone suggested he take it down to Cargill in Melbourne.

Page’s roadie came down with the guitar and Cargill rewound the pickup to perfect working in a few hours.

“The next day, I got a phone call from Jimmy. He said to me, ‘Gee man, it never

sounded this good before!’”

Years later, Gibson was trying to reissue Jimmy’s famous guitar, yet no-one could figure out how the back pickup sounded so distinctive. When it was eventually traced back to Cargill, master of American pickups Seymour Duncan got in touch to ask for advice.

These days, Cargill is semi-retired. He has passed on a wealth of knowledge to his son Jim Cargill, who has the same passion for guitars running through his blood.

“He’s the only one I’ve taught. I’ve been very proud of Jim and his ability to carry on the good name. He’s really wellup with it. He can do anything.” Together they have designed and built guitars of the highest quality craftsmanship, that are loved by some of Australia’s top players.

In an age where guitars are more likely to be made on a mass production line by a series of machines than in the caring hands of a luthier, it can be easy to forget that there is no substitute for the time-honored skill and love that goes into hand making a guitar from start to finish.

When you have truly mastered a craft, you understand your materials like the back of your hand. Your tools become an extension of your body. The smallest alteration in just the right spot can yield sparkling trebles or a warm, rounded bass sound. Every guitar that has come out of this workshop over the past sixty years has been individually crafted with the expertise and dedication of a bygone era.

“You’re always learning something new,” says Cargill with a smile. Sitting together in the same shed that he has worked out of for more than half of his life, Merv Cargill looks across at the pile of guitars all awaiting the Cargill touch.

He laughs knowingly at all the work that needs to be done. At 84 years of age, business is booming.

“When you’ve really got a passion for something, it stays with you for a lifetime.”

emma do

middle

31

2

Hello, my name is Oliver

an i nterview with O LIVER MO L by JO SHU A AL L E N

Oliver Mol is probably one of the kindest strangers I’ve ever talked to online. He accepted my awkward friend request after we spent an hour messaging each other on Facebook (totally a professional medium for interviewing).

I’ve never met Oliver before, but I saw him accept the Scribe Nonfiction Prize last year at the Express Media Awards—awards that recognise emerging writers under 25. It was his award-winning entry, 34 Memories of Growing Up in Texas, which led to his book being taken on by Scribe Publications: an independent publishing house that publishes over 50 nonfiction and fiction books annually in Australia and approximately 40 in the UK. Lion Attack! (yes, the exclamation mark is part of the book title) is Oliver’s debut memoir that Scribe says is a “high-voltage, energetic work of creative nonfiction that explores what it means to be an Australian today. Part love story, part tragicomedy, and part social critique, it is a coming-of-age story with a contemporary beat”. It’s an apt description of Oliver’s work, as seen in his writing which has been published in literary journals such as Going Down Swinging, The Lifted Brow, Voiceworks and Higher Arc. “I love the mix of seriousness and exuberance at the heart of Oliver’s book,” says Oliver’s editor at Scribe, Julia Carlamagno.

“Oliver is telling a story with what are really very heavy themes— social and political themes, about how we interact with technology, and how we define ourselves as individuals and as members of a community, and what it means to be an Australian today—but he does it lightly, and the book is very fun to read.

“For me, it also had that quality of originality or surprise—it didn’t feel like I’d read this story before, certainly not as told in quite this way. Again, it felt authentic; I think that’s a key element of Oliver’s work. And it made me laugh.”

Publishing houses are rigorous when examining potential manuscripts for publication; it’s this process that has allowed Scribe to survive independently for over 35 years. Lion Attack! is a new book, from a relatively unknown writer. But what made Scribe decide to publish it?

“There’s been a lot of talk about the current publishing climate, and how hard it can be for first books to gain traction in the market—particularly a manuscript that actively embraces elements of alternative literature,” says Julia.

“Certainly, that’s an aspect that every publisher considers when approaching a debut work. But Scribe has always been keen to promote new, exciting Australian voices, and we always ultimately make our decision based on the quality of the work and our passion for it.

“We were drawn to Oliver’s manuscript, and we felt that it could resonate with readers as strongly as it did with us. You always know you really want to publish something if the thought of another publisher taking it on gives you a sweaty brow. And we felt that way with Oliver’s manuscript.”

Oliver was born in Brisbane, before moving to Canberra and living there until he was nine. He lived in Texas until he was 15, and moved back to Brisbane where he studied business for a year before withdrawing. Oliver then travelled back and forth between Canada and Latin America—he also tried studying journalism back home in Brisbane but that didn’t work out. Oliver couldn’t really settle down at 18.

He moved to Sydney for one year and studied Spanish before he finally decided to apply for the creative writing course at RMIT. He arrived in Melbourne when he was 22 and graduated from RMIT at 25.

For someone who’s been all over the place and grown up in America, perhaps it was this geographical distance and confusion that shaped Oliver’s understanding of Australian identity. But he says he didn’t really know what “being Australian” was.

“Australia or the idea of Australia became strange or maybe distanced to me,” says Oliver.

“I didn’t really have anything to compare my experiences to because I was experiencing them in America. I still think Australia is fairly strange.”

Creative nonfiction focuses on true events, drawing upon the writer’s own personal experiences to investigate a broad topic. It’s this genre of writing that’s grabbing Australian readers; recent examples are Anna Krien’s Night Games: Sex, Power and Sport and John Safran’s Murder in Mississippi. Both are sitting comfortably within

33

Australia or the idea of Australia became strange or maybe distanced to me ...

I still think Australia is very strange

Readings’ top 30 bestselling books of 2013.

“There are lots of personal stories in Lion Attack!

I had to clear a lot past my family. I was worried my family wouldn’t like it. And for a while they didn’t. It’s sort of one big personal story,” says Oliver. “Mostly everything is true except for some things. Overall, the book feels like the most honest thing I’ve ever written. Which is sort of terrifying and exciting.”

One of the terrifying things for a nonfiction writer is constructing characters based on the lives of people around them. Oliver found that writing about himself and his girlfriend was difficult.

“One of the characters is me, so developing me was probably the hardest because I had to be like: ‘Hey Oliver, who are you?’ And I still don’t really know.

“I just tried to think how I would think and feel in certain situations. I thought about honest reactions. Also, my girlfriend is sort of the girl in the book. So a lot of the stuff I had to run by her …

I started writing down things she said. Or I started remembering things she said and writing them down without telling her.”

Oliver is a young writer, but this opportunity to have his book published took many months. It’s easy to become distracted with so many things going on when you’re only 25—events, relationships, social media and work—yet Oliver managed to work on his manuscript for extended periods of time without feeling disengaged. In 2012, Oliver had a Hot Desk Fellowship at The Wheeler Centre: a literary hub in Melbourne that houses key organisations that promote literature across Australia. Within two months at his writing space in the centre Oliver wrote 50,000 words.

“I only used maybe 7000 of the words I wrote, but I needed to get through those 50,000 words to figure out where I was. It made the characters who they were,” he says.

“I don’t actually put a lot of pressure on myself to get work done. I just do it because I enjoy writing.

People are like, ‘Wow that’s so hardcore writing is so hard’ but it’s not really a problem for me. I don’t know why. I treat it like a job, but a fun job. I think I enjoy it because it makes me feel worthwhile.”

Lion Attack! by Oliver Mol will be released in February 2015 by Scribe Publications.

@joshuawords

Rainbow TV R I C H AR D FE R G US ON o n q ue e r repres entation in aus tralian tv

From the sexy dramedy Looking to the musicalloving Glee, queer representation on American and British television is finally blossoming. All forms of television from breakfast talk shows to dramas are embracing the queer community and talking about their lives and experiences. However, back in the land of Priscilla, there is a much more dismal outlook. Having grown up in both Scotland and Australia, it never fails to perplex me how Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex and Queer (LGBTIQ) people are so absent from all aspects of life in this country—especially television.

Chances of a queer revolution are not bright in Australia, especially if we consider comments made by gay comedian Josh Thomas at the time of the launch of his sitcom Please Like Me. Speaking to The Australian, Thomas caused controversy by suggesting the ABC was unwilling to put a show with gay sex scenes on ABC1 and therefore it was shunted off to the lesser ABC2. Thomas told The Australian: “People have suggested [that Please Like Me being too gay] is why they [put it on ABC2].”

Please Like Me had its faults, but for a gay teen like myself, there was a slight charm in seeing someone on the telly have the same sexual desires and regrets that I did. Australian television had

taught me a lot about my straight friends’ sexual trials and tribulations but at last, dammit, someone was voicing my overwhelming fears about anal sex. The comments by Thomas did not shock me as much as they disappointed me, being so used to hearing that “people just aren’t ready yet”. Even with its progressive reputation, it did seem that dear old Aunty wasn’t quite prepared to embrace her out-and-proud nephew.

Many moons ago, I was born in 1990s Glasgow.

Gay sex had been decriminalised in 1968—nearly thirty years before Australia—and a British Labour government was drafting the civil union legislation that would later lead to marriage equality in the UK. This was also a country that was quickly embracing queer characters. In most major dramas, there were LGBTIQ people ranging from bisexual Captain Jack in the family-friendly Doctor Who to the lesbian detective Jo Masters on The Bill.

Most important of all was Hayley Cropper, the transgender tea lady on the iconic soap Coronation Street. Since 1998, Hayley’s lead role in one of Britain’s most-watched drama has taught an entire country about the struggles of the transgender community—from workplace bullying to legal

discrepancies and sex reassignment surgery.

However, this character was most revolutionary by portraying transgender people as human beings with love lives and professional ambitions like everyone else. I grew up with a television landscape full of diverse, lfe-affirming LGBTIQ characters getting in on the action. This little queer boy felt safe knowing there were people on the television just like him.

But when I moved to Australia, there was nothing.

As I entered puberty and began noticing the treatment of the queer community, I began looking for people in my new country who understood me and my blossoming identity. Like most people in the suburbs, my quest for enlightenment started while watching Channel Seven. As the same straight characters lived out the same straight storylines, the same phenomenon was occurring on other television stations. There was a drastic lack of central queer characters on commercial dramas like Packed to the Rafters and whatever cop show Sigrid Thornton was on at the time. Home & Away and Neighbours both premiered same-sex kisses after 2008—nearly 15 years after the first same-sex kiss on a British soap opera.

As for comedies and panel shows, there remains the tendency for the light but revolting homophobic jab. A particularly nasty example was on Chanel Nine’s The Footy Show in May 2009, when commentator Matthew Johns performed a skit as a character called Elton who is taken to hospital for being “too gay”. This is hardly supportive of gay males in Australia, especially when one considers a study conducted by the Australian National University’s Centre for Medical Research which found gay men are 13.5 times more likely to attempt suicide compared to heterosexual males. For this gay teen, it was particularly confronting, considering I was growing up in a working-class Catholic school— the sort of place where football players were treated as saints while I was subjected to bullying from both teachers and students regarding my sexuality.

Until very recently, a closeted Catholic gay kid like me could hardly look to the telly—that mother of the nation—for advice or support.

As I gave up on Australia, I looked to American television for some queer substance. However, there are a lot of mistakes in American TV’s so-called “revolution”. A lot of queer representation fed off old stereotypes (mostly always white characters), something that drove me mad as I searched for true representation through the telly.

When I turned to the holy trinity of American queer television (Queer as Folk, Will & Grace and The L Word), I found myself totally isolated from these depictions of queer life. I was not having sex with very hot guys every night and there was

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I admit that I know the words to Whitney Houston’s Greatest Love of All and I’ve made out with more men over the age of 32 than I care to remember, but like all queer people, I have more diverse interests and influences than what the stereotypes let on.

only one gay bar in my town. As for the diverse queer friends I had, not one of them was as fey or as butch, as promiscuous or even as tortured as the stereotypical characters on these shows. Even with recent, popular gay characters like Cam and Mitchell in Modern Family or Ellijah in Girls, there is a very warped projection of what being gay is; either hyper-sexualised or desexualised. I may not have wild threesomes as often as the guys on Queer as Folk, but I definitely get more action than Cam and Mitchell who, in five seasons, have given each other a risqué peck on the cheek only a few times.

The ABC may still feel a bit shy regarding gay sex scenes, but its exploration of gay life in general is quite enlightened. A personal favourite of mine is the queer sci-fi comedy Outland, which focused on a diverse range of LGBTIQ science fiction fans. The show is most notable for exploring the diversity of Australia’s queer community. There are characters of different ethnicities, genders and interests bound together through a sense of community and their encyclopaedic knowledge of Star Trek.

Redfern Now, the ABC drama, is another massive stepping-stone for queer television with the character Peter being one of the first depictions of a gay Indigenous man on Australian television.

The emergence of queer talent from comedians such as Tom Ballard to news anchors like Anton Enus has also been notable. Even national treasure Magda Szubanski felt free to come out in 2012 after years in the closet. As this shift began in my twenties, I have been proud to see that what little representation appears on Australian television at least embraces the diversity of our community in a way its American cousin often fails to do.

I admit that I know the words to Whitney Houston’s Greatest Love of All and I’ve made out with more men over the age of 32 than I care to remember, but like all queer people, I have more diverse interests and influences than what the stereotypes let on. The rare Australian queer character has reflected the diverse interests and backgrounds I see in my LGBTIQ friends and in my own personality: something American television, for all its virtues, has failed to portray. Queer people in this world are as complex as their straight siblings, and it’s important that TV reflects this.

The queer TV experience may be a limited one, but I hope for that day when I and many others can sit down with their same-sex partner and see our lives and experiences reflected back at us.

@RichardFergus19

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D R Y S D A L E & A N G I E P A I PHOTO ESSAY

angiepai.com

jordandrysdale.com

alan weedon

Christening the backyard c o l u m n i s t MICH AE L WALSH m us es on being down and out in pres ton

We were in a rented truck travelling up the Western Ring Road. Anna’s mum, Vickie, was behind the wheel. The back of the truck was filled with hand-me-down furniture and appliances, masterfully arranged like some sort of reverse Jenga installation.

Anna had to balance her fish tank on her lap the whole ride up; three tiny occupants swam in loops about it, coming perilously close to the rim at every pothole.

I was being serious about the rag-gag though. I have no sisters, and my mum and nonna were experts at hiding any feminine goods. My mum had a separate bathroom to us, and she hid her pads better than our Christmas presents. We never came across them, even after 19 years of mostly peaceful co-existence.

Going to an all-boys school probably didn’t help my limited understanding of the female reproductive system either. Imagine my shock at discovering what those little bins with the flaps in bathrooms were really for, or that when girls mentioned shark week they didn’t mean there was a Jaws marathon on SBS. Somewhere between Werribee and the city, Vickie told us that her special time had just begun. It was apparently a surprise, too. Upon arrival in Preston, we discovered that Vickie had bled through her pants, marking the seat of the rental. And because we had no groceries in the house yet, she had to go into the yard and use some fallen leaves to clean herself up a bit.

We all laughed and joked about it, which was a new experience for me.

I’d always imagined that these sorts of situations would be a cause for drama than humility and humour.

The only stories in the same vein I’d heard previously were tinged with embarrassment. A mate of mine once accidently dropped a soiled tampon on the floor of a toilet cubicle. It rolled into the next booth which, of course, was occupied. Cue screaming. She had to sprint out before she could be identified Another friend would tell me about unfortunate, red-faced Year 7 girls having to run to the bathroom with books gripped tightly behind their bums.

But Vickie and Cass couldn’t have cared less—shit happens. As it would turn out, this basic education in menstruation very early on in our lease was a far more important lesson than I could have realised.

Living in a share house is never easy, even if you move in with some of your best mates. It doesn’t really matter how long you’ve all been friends for; the original dynamics tend to fade into the background and tensions develop as you take on new roles.

I was a lazy prick. I left dirty dishes around the house, spent too much time playing video games and I never took out the trash or put the bins out. My role was that of the slack-arse son who never did his chores.

The girls took me aside one afternoon, near the end of the lease, and laid it bare: “We want to keep the house next year, and we think you should leave.”

I’m just going to rewind this yarn a bit by saying we had some really great times before I got the boot.

We used to play sip-or-strip on a weekly basis, even

in winter. The loser had to sprint to the bottom of our overgrown yard and back, but we’d end up so pissed that it often turned into a race, replete with long, cold fronds of wet grass brushing our special bits. You’d have to dodge the less benign weeds. If we were really trashed, it ended up a slip-and-slide.

Whenever we had these sorts of nights, our neighbour Margaret would come around. By which I mean she’d walk into our house uninvited, peering at us in the hallway until someone noticed her: thickrimmed glasses and frizzy bottle-red hair illuminated in the patio light. Margaret was a middle-aged nurse on the verge of retirement who would drink most of our booze and make us roll smokes for her all night.

The first time we met her, she told us that she tried to resuscitate the previous tenant after he had a heart attack on the toilet, but she got there too late.

Shit happens when you’re living in a sharehouse for the first time. Especially when that house is next to a bunch of commission flats in Preston. Naturally, that lesson didn’t seem relevant once I got evicted, so I decided to go tit-for-tat with the girls. I bitched about my situation ad nauseam to anybody who would listen. I told people that Cass’s cat’s litter tray was always overflowing with shit and soggy paper, and that the kitchen would be left filthy for days—caked in facon and mayonnaise—whenever Anna tried to play Vegetarian Master Chef. And you know what? Those stories were completely true, but retelling them made me feel like a fucking ogre who couldn’t have a normal conversation without trailing off into a bitter tirade.

43

“I wouldn’t go to the toilet straight away.”

“What happened, Cass?” asked Anna. “Well, the water hasn’t been turned on yet so I couldn’t flush it, and—” she said, pausing for dramatic effect, “—it’s like a crime scene in there.” I heard muted sniggering.

“Did you have Indian or something last night?” I asked innocently. The girls looked at me funny for a bit before losing their self-control, slapping the dashboard in fits of laughter. “Dude, seriously?”

My role was that of the slack-arse son who never did his chores.

Getting kicked out by your friends is embarrassing.

Having to move back in with your parents—with your tail firmly between your legs—is embarrassing. Having to explain your living situation to mutual friends after the fact is embarrassing. But, once again, shit happens.

I wish I could have remembered Vickie bleeding on the seat of that white Budget truck whenever I retold my pathetic story to every poor soul willing to listen. I wish I could have remembered ol’ goon-breath Margaret whispering sweet nothings into the ear of a squirming 20-year-old boy every time I gave my exhousemates the cold shoulder.

Whenever you let a situation embarrass you, you relinquish control over it, and you diminish the entire experience. Why be a victim when you could laugh about it instead? After all, Vickie didn’t blame the cosmos because she had to clean herself up with the local flora. Instead, she joked that she’d christened the backyard for us. And we didn’t whine about Margaret coming over unannounced—we’d laugh because she was the life of the whole friggin’ party.

Now, whenever I leave half-finished coffee cups around my parents’ house, my dad jokes that they’re going to kick me out. And I have a laugh. @mikehwalsh

emma do

Sex overseas S L M on l o si n g he r sexu al inhibitions when travelling to f oreign la nd s

45 Before boarding a party cruise boat in Budapest I was told it was a Hungarian tradition to kiss someone every time the boat sailed under a bridge. The Danube River, considered a national waterway and separating the two regions of Buda and Pest, is naturally graced with numerous bridges—all beautifully lit and regretfully quite close together. This ‘tradition’ was of course bullshit, a thinly-veiled attempt to encourage a hook-up culture among guests staying in the hostels.

When I started seriously travelling at the age of 19 I was still a virgin. My eyes were wide at≠≠ the lights of Vegas and the ease of drinking underage in New Orleans. Despite a full itinerary, my travels lacked sexual experiences. Instead, I watched with mild interest as almost everyone on my tour became a sexual deviant—kissing strangers and finding sexual partners with extreme ease. It seemed to me that hooking up overseas required almost no real work. A welcome surprise considering you’re almost guaranteed to gain five kilograms of beer-bloating, suffer through terrible skin and poor levels of hygiene.

Without sounding like a complete wanker, there’s something indescribable about the way you act when travelling. Everyone travels for different reasons of course, but being overseas for a particular amount of time with money carefully saved deserves enjoyment.

Sightseeing, drinking, eating and shopping are all important activities, but there’s an element of carpe noctem that inhabits you when talking to attractive strangers with exotic accents.

Still, cashing in on the lowered standards of potential sex partners suffering from beer goggles may not guarantee you a one-night stand. People can still be complete douches when travelling. During my first trip through Europe, I made my intentions clear to a Californian that he basically had a free card to enjoy my Australian body and marvel over how sounds of pleasure sounded so different with my accent. He declined my advances, calling me fat and a little slutty.

Naturally, I took extreme offence at this statement. Like the goddess Mindy Lahiri, I fluctuate between chubby and curvy. And I also consider myself quite slutty and take offence when people think this is still an insult. Either way, the experience made me realise that just because you’re overseas doesn’t mean you can abandon the importance of taking care of yourself.

My second trip through Europe earlier this year proved more successful.

Rather than an organised tour I backpacked spontaneously with a friend. I kissed countless strangers, earned myself a romantic 2am stroll

through the streets of Amsterdam and nailed my first English guy. But how do the logistics of hooking up overseas actually work when you’re more than likely to be sharing a room with 12 other people, and how do you practice personal safety when you’re abandoning the self esteem issues of home?

As much as I stand by the notion that everyone, whether you’re male or female, should be able to walk down the street and pick up strangers without fear of danger—travelling in foreign countries with different cultures and attitudes towards tourists demands a certain amount of consideration. I’m still yet to have sex with a local, as travellers are infinitely easier to pick up and most of time they’re staying in the bed next to you.

Conveniently, youth hostels have created an accommodating and safe culture built around the understanding that young people are horny.

During my first night in Budapest my friend and I were pulled aside and explained that at this hostel “everyone hooks up with everyone, there’s no element of possession or judgment”, and the act of kissing someone “is basically a contract saying you want to sleep with them”. You don’t want to sleep with anyone? You’d just prefer to kiss? No worries, just blatantly tell your make-out partner you’re not interested in sex—no-one cares either way.

Of course, you would think with these kinds of attitudes I would just be able to throw a stone and find a sexual partner. In a way, I kind of did: after a few shots of this bizarre carbonated vodka I announced to one of the girls that I absolutely, definitely had to have sex. She literally extended her arm and withdrew perhaps the most adorable bearded guy wearing what I think was a Power Rangers costume. After a while of making out with this divine creature, I suddenly felt the vodka shots making a return appearance. I spent the rest of the night holed up in a toilet stall and when I could stand again I went promptly home. This might be my only serious regret of missed opportunity. Power Rangers rule.

Finally, there’s the logistics of how to have sex in a single bed with four other people potentially listening in. I did this in Prague, and there’s no way to get around it. Everyone will hear and know what you did, but as long as you attempt to contain the noise you should be fine. If anything, you’re probably doing everyone a favour by providing audible porn.

But it’s probably best to use the showers anyway.

Two pens, one book E M I LY WE STM OR E LAN D reviews s ome of her f avourite co - wr i tten b o o ks al l th e way f rom C hile

The cliché proclaims “two heads are better than one”.

So when two literary geniuses are contained under the one cover, I can barely contain my excitement. For something that will provide you with a variety of perspectives on one adventure, try any of the books from the following authors.

David Levithan, et al

James Patterson, et al

Potentially the King of contemporary co-written young adult (YA) novels, Levithan has teamed up with well-known YA authors John Green, Angela Cremer, Maureen Johnson, Rachel Cohn and many more. His most famous, Will Grayson, Will Grayson with John Green, is a sweet love story. Hilarity and gay rights are tied into one endearing tale about two boys with the same name. Their chance meeting and intertwining narratives will have you clutching the book to your chest.

It seems natural these days to have a partner when you write crime. Take James Patterson for example: so popular in both Australia and the US he needs to churn out a novel every six months! The trick, it seems, is to use the same characters and similar plot structure—but utilise the fresh ideas of debut crime writers trying to make a name for themselves. If pop crime is your guilty pleasure and you want to bring some CSI to to the beach, try the Women’s Murder Club series. Patterson enlists female writer Maxine Paetro to create believable protagonists: four women who eat Mexican food whilst discussing “clues” to solve crime.

Alexandre Dumas, et al

Holly Black and Cassandra Clare

Brian Cox and Jeff Forshaw

Grimm and Grimm

For lovers of classics and those who feel they should engage with them more, Dumas—one of France’s most famous authors—engaged in collaboration and ghost-writing frequently. How else could one flamboyant man who spent more time with mistresses than at a desk pen extravagant, swashbuckling romances such as The Count of Monte Cristo and The

While officially these two have yet to print any hard copies—preferring to keep their collaboration to a kind of fanfiction—the novels of these two urban fantasy writers are inextricably linked. Biffles (best friends for life) in the real world, Holly Black’s characters make cameo appearances in Cassandra Clare’s Mortal Instruments series and vice versa. For those who enjoyed City of Bones (the book, not the movie), you’ll find parallels in Black’s Tithe and Valiant, only with more faerie drug trips. Holly Black is also famous for co-writing the Spiderwick Chronicles with Tony Diterlizzi.

Filling the interim market between pop-science and biophysicist textbooks, Cox and Forshaw have written two intermediate physics novels: Why does E=mc2? and The Quantum Universe. Reviewed as “physics boot camp”, Cox and Forshaw are punctilious in their care for the mathematically illiterate.

Die-hard fans of Cox’s television series Wonders of the Universe will love these books. However if you aren’t scientifically inclined or are only mildly interested in Cox’s cute face in a tweed suit, this isn’t for you.

These fairy tales have been popularised and adored so much that siblings Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm have earned themselves a definite article: the Brothers Grimm. Famous for tales such as Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, Rapunzel, Rumpelstiltskin, Little Red Riding Hood and more, the Brothers Grimm were folk story collectors that paraphrased tales to encapsulate a German identity. The result? Timeless classics, gorier than all the Disney adaptions you know.

Definitely acquaint yourself with the originals. A small word of warning, however: not everyone lives happily ever after.

Three Musketeers?

@limeywesty

izabella staskowski

Who run the world?

SAM AN T HA W INNIC KI on ‘yoncé & world domi na ti on

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In an interview with Oprah, Beyoncé once said that when she is on stage, her alter ego takes over. Sasha is a totally in-your-face, all-owning, crazy (in love), generally sexy other being. Beyoncé, on the other hand, is just this sort of reserved, incredibly sexy (but not crazy) woman.

Sasha sometimes just takes over, Beyoncé emphatically explains. This is proof that Beyoncé belongs to the New World Order, a club with members such as Katy Perry, Rihanna, the late Michael Jackson (who later turned against them), T-Pain, Jim Carrey and also George W. Bush and all of his family.

I know this is true because a video that I watched on YouTube told me so. Beyoncé having Sasha come out of her means she is possessed by the devil and therefore she is also part of said New World Order. How else do you think that Rihanna—once a good girl—turned into someone who doesn’t wear many clothes in her video clips? Or Michael Jackson, who used to have darker skin, got lighter skin? Then, having decided to turn against the New World Order ,was ‘killed’?

The above are all legitimate beliefs of authors, actors, doctors, academics and students. People, who are of average or above-average intelligence, yet need to believe thawt not all events are random: that there is a secret government who run the world (girls).

What even is The New World Order?

Also known as the Illuminati, this group of people want to take over the world and have power over everyone. Almost all events—especially the ones that seem random—are all planned out in an attempt to create a government where the rich and famous (but usually both) run the world. Take the classic example of 9/11. Any conspiracy theorist will tell you that it was obviously a ploy by the people who control the American government as a means to get into the Middle East and steal their oil. And, you know, just rule the world and all that stuff. But why would you even want oil? Because my god, oil is expensive.

Have you ever even bought petrol? And there are genuine political ploys to get oil. So I’m sorry Beyoncé, but girls don’t run the world. Oil does. However, I digress. The people who come up with these theories are many people. People on the internet, mostly. The most prominent of which is a man by the name Alex Jones, who has several websites and a radio show.

Though he wasn’t the one who came up with the whole Illuminati theory (I don’t think anyone knows who first came to these conclusions), he is definitely one of the clearest voices in the mix

Did you say Lizardmen?

No, I didn’t, but I will tell you about the lizard people now that you have mentioned it. My favourite kinds of theories are those that accuse Obama of being a lizardman—there are several videos of him where he, like, totally turns from a lizard back into a man right before he does a speech (search Obama Lizard Man for more sweet content). Basically everyone in the American government is a lizard. So not only do they hack phones, but they’re also a bit reptilian. So keep an eye out for that. Lady Gaga, according to the internet, is also a lizard. But let’s be honest here: Lady Gaga would be the least surprising person to be a lizard because she dresses so crazy. Michael Jackson was also probably a lizard, but according to the theory he died because he wanted out of the lizard club and the other lizards weren’t happy with that.

What’s all this One Eye stuff I keep hearing about?

So yeah, you should look up “Illuminati one eye sign”, and your selected search engine should bring up a lot of celebrities who have a hand or other object covering one eye—and thus, have one eye. As well as a triangle shape, this is the universal sign that they belong to the Illuminati.Which is strange, because the Illuminati are meant to be a secret society that no-one knows about. So it kind of confuses me that all these celebrities appear to be making it public that they are part of this secret organisation that wants to take over the world. Also, the one eye sign is on American money. I would also note that most conspiracy theorists are America-based. So is all of this true? No-one can ever know for sure. But, as the magnificent Tila Tequila once tweeted, “Y do u think CNN and news stations covered Paris Hilton goin 2 jail? they were tryin 2 distract country from bein angry at BUSH 4 goin 2 war.”

@winnickis

emma do

end

51

3

A requiem for all the things I should have said (1) look at you. some days, i can’t. instead i spell out entire love letters on the roof of my mouth and hope that maybe, one day, you will read them.

(2) my first memory of love is a film reel of people kissing in a dark room. my mother and father never displayed their affection publically, but when they stole glances at each other you knew they existed. a thought: our hands are the most permanent things. you carve yourself new hands from stone. i fish your old ones from the river. you wouldn’t believe how perfectly your fingers fit with mine.

(3) maybe you’re in a car with a beautiful boy. maybe it’s autumn, and the leaves that had once been swept into sacrificial piles on the nature strip are scattered along the road. survey: do you sympathise with the man who spent all day sweeping, or do you sympathise with the leaves? maybe it’s autumn, and it’s raining, and he turns up the radio but all you want to do is talk. you’re feeling like the body in a body bag. how many times does your heart beat from when you wake up until you fall asleep? is it more on the days that you see me? you told me once, you were drunk, that you’ve been having nightmares. i passed out on your bed before i could say sweet dreams.

(4) my second memory of love is my sister introducing me to her girlfriend, who she referred to as a friend. they were friends for seven years. i was a child once. it’s sad that not everybody gets to say how they feel all of the time. it’s even sadder when i see you.

(5) dear so-and-so, i’m sorry i couldn’t come to your party. dear so-and-so, i’m sorry i could come to your party, and i broke your lamp, and kissed a boy who liked me.

FRANCESCA DI STEFANO

hello dear, i’m sorry for the bruised thighs, sorry for the yelling, and for wanting to kiss you at all the wrong times. you are the shape of a triangle that i have tried to stuff into a square. you are the shape of a human that i have tried to stuff into a god. you carved me a notch in your bedpost, next to the others, and cried when i slept on the couch. you said you stayed with me because i didn’t mistake the streetlights for stars. i don’t know much about astronomy, but i could spend hours mapping out the constellation of bumps on your back. in fact, i have. here are the broken pieces that i have glued back together. here is the atlas, and here are the places that it hurts. will you kiss them better? here is the part where i get it right, where i feel your mouth curl into a smile against mine. look how perfectly your hand sits against my face. like it was carved for you. here are the broken pieces, but now you are the one picking them up. you say you can’t remember what love looks like. don’t turn on the light. you accuse me of only wanting to be wanted, but love for you is larger than the usual kind of love and on most days i only have two hands. come back to bed, dear. tomorrow i will make you breakfast and you will find love written in the bacon and on the toast and in the holes in my mouth and you will feel fine.

(6) like one does with the rain, i will eventually stop loving you. everything i touch is stained with you. they never taught me how to say anything important. the conversations my skin has with yours are the most important of them all, but i don’t think either of us understand a word. yet you still reach for me in darkened subways and empty halls. stay like that. there will always be another storm. another set of rivers underneath another person’s skin. another estuary where veins meet and pulse. i am here, here and here. and when i bite them, they will not taste like you, they will not bruise like you or cry like you, but that won’t matter. probably.

53 I. inside this whale’s chest we can hear each other breathing

killer whales

giant ribs against our tangled spines and the swell of the ocean pressing in against our hollow this is what it means to be close to someone exhaling in the dark II. I want to be surprised all the time I want to see ladies with beards walking down the street because they are fabulous they can really rock it there are tiny people having a beach party under my bed they’re being really loud I don’t want them to wake my housemates but at least they seem to be having a good time

IZZY ROBERTSORR

lying on gross carpet and smelling my burnt jumper nothing really even matters there are so many things not worth worrying about there is a way of dancing where you don’t even have to move your feet or arms or legs or head or you just use your eyes and the light III. I wear the people I love around my neck like talismans like prayers I think about walking into the river and standing still and silent so I can feel it moving past me sadness will be your friend if you let it it will move in sleep on your feet eat all your cereal and never buy milk but look at the moss it makes mud beautiful it’s every shade of green you can imagine it holds the rocks and tells them it will be okay it keeps the cracks in the footpath warm everything used to be something else and that is a comforting thought

alan weedon

two smokers on a sunny morning SCOTT WOODARD

MICK AND TIM lean on their shovels under the row of elms. They smoke and watch the magpies picking worms from the ceremonial lawns. It is late in the shift and already the first funerals are gathering around the newlydug graves. The mourners shimmer in the midmorning heat like a poorly-tuned television that at any moment could change stations to something more jovial.

“Funeral clothes aren’t very suited to summer,” says Mick. He drops his cigarette butt into the buzz-cut grass and lights another. The lighter is the cheapest Bic he could find at the IGA and it takes a few pumps to get a flame. Mick knows that with his smoking habits he will have a blood blister on his thumb in less than a week.

“Then why don’t you market a line of clothes especially for summer funerals and see how many you sell,” says Tim. “It was just an observation,” says Mick. “A joke really.”

“I know,” says Tim. “I’m joking too.”

Dust blows across the cemetery, like the bodies of ghosts, to where the pale sky meets the fields.

The mourners hold their jackets up to their faces.

Somewhere in the distance a car hisses past.

“Look at those people,” says Mick, jabbing the hot end of his cigarette at the crowd. “Do you think they have any appreciation for what we do?”

“I suppose that depends on how much they want to see their friend buried.”

“Like, I know we’re just digging holes. But they’re a really specialised type of hole. If we dig it even a fraction too small then we can turn the whole grieving process into a farce. When people talk about grandpa it’ll be the thing that they remember.”

“Oh yeah. And anyone buried five feet under is gunna look like an idiot for the rest of time.”

“And the walls need to be dead straight and the bottom dead flat and its all gotta look perfect.”

Mick’s voice trails off. He looks across at Tim. He’s got to be about 10 years older than Mick, with a sunbeaten face like cracked clay. He’s not old enough to be Mick’s father, but he’s not young enough to be Mick’s friend. So what is he?

Aware that his eyes are lingering for too long, he loses himself in the thick mess of lawn.

“I don’t want someone like us digging my grave,” says Tim. “I’m gunna dig it myself. Then when I’m lying in it, I’m gunna have a little label over my head which points out to passers by not to dig in this spot.”

Mick cracks a grin. Tim is staring out over the lines of graves. There is a wry smile in the corner of his lip and his cheek crinkles around it like a cloud of arrows.

“You’re absolutely right,” says Mick. “And I’m not gunna have a funeral, because who wants to spend a whole morning feeling bad about themselves. And worse: having the expectation that they should feel bad about themselves. What sort of friend would want to inflict that kind of pain onto the people he sup posably loves?”

“I’m not even gunna let anyone know that I’m dying,” says Mick. “I’m just gunna leave a note at home saying that I’ve died and am buried in a non-descript place. Somewhere out of the way. I suppose a cemetery is as out of the way as you can get.”

Tim looks across at Mick and drops his cigarette butt into the grass. It smoulders briefly in the mulch then goes out.

“Let me ask you something,” says Tim. “Why do you care how you die? Or what happens after? You’ll be dead anyway.”

The mourners are returning to their cars across the lawns. They talk in hushed tones and make mournful sweeping actions with their heads. A few people linger: two girls, two middle-aged men wearing sunglasses and an old man. Then they turn to leave too.

Mick waits until Tim begins to choke, then doubles over with laughter. He begins to laugh too.

Tim stamps on his cigarette butt and the laughter subsides with the same ease from which it began. He wraps his fingers around the handle of his spade and swings the shaft into his other hand.

“I suppose we better get back to work,” he says.

He walks across the lawns, scattering the magpies as he goes. Mick follows a few steps behind, searching for a limp in the older man’s gait.

From the President’s Desk

JAMES MICHELMORE

Hopefully by now you’ve had a chance to settle in to the rhythm of university life, or maybe you’re just counting down the days until semester break. Whatever the case, remember you can always mix it up a bit by getting involved with your student union. We offer a variety of student clubs, collectives, parties and volunteer opportunities.

The RMIT University Student Union (RUSU) exists primarily to represent and advocate for the interests of RMIT students.

The annually elected representatives are your voice at RMIT and within the broader community. If you’ve got a problem at university, RUSU’s got your back. We keep an eye on what RMIT’s up to, we consult on propwosed changes and we call them out when students aren’t getting a fair go. You can find out more, become a member and get in contact with us at su.rmit. edu.au.

At RUSU, we also aim to ensure your time at university is the best it can be. Last year we promised you more free, healthy food—and we are delivering on this promise. We’re running more on-campus events across RMIT, including a free breakfast event on every campus. We’ve opened our new offices and student lounge at Bundoora East which means you can now access our services on every campus. In 2013, students asked for a camp, so we’re bringing you that too. Lead by student volunteers and subsidised by RUSU, we hope that this will be the first of many such camps where students can enjoy a break from university and make new friends. And if you missed all the excitement of orientation, or if you’re keen to do it again, be sure to get along to our Re-Orientation Week. We’ll be out showing you a good time and showcasing our services, activities and student clubs.

It’s not all fun and games though. Students facing academic problems at RMIT can use our most important service here at RUSU—our advocacy service. Student Rights Officers are employed by RUSU to provide free confidential advice, support and advocacy to students. If you’re a bit stuck, our advocacy team and publications can also provide clarity regarding RMIT’s policies and procedures. For more information or to schedule an appointment call (03) 9925 5004 or email student. rights@rmit.edu.au.

While all our essential services are available free to students, we still encourage you to become a member. This way you get priority access to our events, fortnightly newsletter, giveaways, special offers and more. If you haven’t already got your membership for 2014, get to it. It’s just $10 a year and you reap all the benefits of membership from an organisation that supports you.

James Michelmore is the President of the RMIT University Student Union.

START THE DAY THE RIGHT WAY EVERY WEEK OF SEMESTER RUSU

CITY CAMPUS BRUNSWICK BUNDOORA WEST BUNDOORA EAST www.su.rmit.edu.au

WEDNESDAY 9am, BLDG 8, LVL 3 WEDNESDAY 11am, BLDG 514 MONDAY 8am, BLDG 204 TUESDAY 9.30am, BLDG 254 (STUDENT LOUNGE)

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FREE HEALTHY BREAKFAST

Melbourne Co-Operative Bookshop Group Ltd (In Liquidation) ABN 49 377 238 672 NOTICE TO MEMBERS

Please be advised that on 11 October 2013 by order of the Supreme Court of Victoria Robyn Erskine of Brooke Bird 471, Riversdale Road, Hawthorn East, Melbourne was appointed Liquidator of Melbourne Co-Operative Bookshop Group Ltd. Melbourne Co-Operative Bookshop Group Ltd is a solvent entity.

After payment of all outstanding liabilities the Liquidator is required to distribute the surplus funds to the members of the co-operative.

The co-operative was established on 7 July 1960. Due to the passage of time since the commencement of the Co-Operative the membership records are not in a format which enables a current listing of members with current contact details to be easily obtained.

Therefore any party who believes they are a member of the Melbourne Co-Operative Bookshop Group Ltd and entitled to share in the distribution of surplus funds are required by no later than 30 April 2014 to provide in writing to the Liquidator: 1. Name, address, email and telephone details 2. Evidence to substantiate their membership of Melbourne Co-Operative Bookshop Group Ltd 3. Bank Account details in which any distribution can be paid should their claim be admitted by the Liquidator At the expiration of the 30 April 2014 or shortly thereafter it is the Liquidator’s intention to settle the list of claims received and to provide a listing of those claims to the Court for further directions on how to apply the funds held by the Liquidator. Please note in order to be eligible to share in the distribution to members interested parties must provide the information as set out above to the Liquidator by the due date. Failure to do so may result in those parties not being eligible to participate in any distribution subsequently paid in the liquidation. Dated this 14 day of March 2014 Brooke Bird Insolvency Specialists 471 Riversdale Road Hawthorn East Melbourne 3123 Tel: 03 9882 6666 Fax: 03 9882 8855 Email: info@brookebird.com.au

ROBYN ERSKINE OFFICIAL LIQUIDATOR BROOKE BIRD

NOTICE OF INTENTION TO DECLARE DIVIDEND MELBOURNE CO-OPERATIVE BOOKSHOP GROUP LTD A.B.N. 49 377 238 672 Status: (IN LIQUIDATION) Appointment Date: 11 OCTOBER 2013 SUBMISSION OF PROOF OF DEBT OR CLAIM Take notice that creditors of the co-operative, whose debts or claims have not already been admitted, are required on or before 30 April 2014 to prove their debts or claims and establish any title they may have to priority by delivering or posting to me at my address a proof of debt or claim.

If they do not, they will be excluded from: (a) the benefit of any distribution made before their debts or claims are proved or their priority is established; and (b) objecting to the distribution.

Date of Notice: 14 March 2014 Form of proof may be obtained from me.

ROBYN ERSKINE OFFICIAL LIQUIDATOR BROOKE BIRD

Brooke Bird Insolvency Specialists 471 Riversdale Road Hawthorn East Melbourne 3123 Tel: 03 9882 6666 Fax: 03 9882 8855 Email: info@brookebird.com.au