Scent of Grass Death
By Chris Hansen. In the morning, often of a weekend, the sounds of mowers could be heard as far as you might wish to travel through the suburbs. My father’s mower was a Victa. Tried trusty and true it kept … Continued
Killing Passion
By Stephane Vander Bruggen. I was standing on the podium, holding the winner’s cup in both hands and looking up at the sky. This one is for you, Pépé (Grandpa). I could not stop a tear from rolling down my … Continued
Nothing Happened
By Sioux Patullo. I was seen by no one today. No one was witness to anything that I did, nor heard anything I had to say. Maybe the neighbour spied me taking out the rubbish but took no notice. I … Continued
To Whom It May Concern
TRANSGENDER DAY OF VISIBILITY Trans people are being targeted… not because we lack, it’s because we love. And we have the audacity to love the parts of ourselves that other people hate in themselves. (Alok Vaid-Menon) Trans Day of Visibility … Continued
“Roller derby changed my life”: on everyday acts of emancipation. Part Two
This is an edited excerpt in two parts, from Polly Bennett’s PhD Thesis, “Roller derby changed my life” (2020), which explored how radical, athlete-led sport like roller derby, can provide a break from daily experiences of exploitation and constraint. Below … Continued
“Roller derby changed my life”: on everyday acts of emancipation. Part One
By Polly Lisa Bennett. This is an edited excerpt in two parts, from Polly Bennett’s PhD Thesis, “Roller derby changed my life” (2020), which explored how radical, athlete-led sport like roller derby, can provide a break from daily experiences of … Continued
To hold the line
By Polly Lisa Bennett. The gymnastics beam as metaphor The beam was not my choice. I did not choose to be good at it. It chose me. The bars were my choice. The flow, the rhythm, the swing. So … Continued
Two blocks and a lifetime away: reflections on the passing of Samba-cat
24 January Just over a year ago I moved into Geelong West. At the time I wasn’t sure what was next. I just knew I didn’t want to go back to my Footscray flat or Melbourne. As my friends … Continued
Goodbye, Farewell, and Thanks for Having Me
By Martin Smith. Last night, my pop, Jack Declan, dropped by for a visit. ‘Hello, my boy,’ he said. ‘I’ve been waiting for your REM cycle to kick in.’ ‘Hi, Pop,’ I said. ‘How’s Heaven?’ He sat grey-haired and … Continued