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Joseph Paglia and Luke Rotella interviewed founding Greens member Senator Janet Rice at the Greens’ election night party in Docklands about the party’s campaign in the 2018 state election.
Ryan is running in the state election for the district of Richmond. She doesn’t expect to win but she’s put herself forward on principle. She can’t let those who would threaten the existence of Victoria’s safe injecting rooms, which she was central in introducing, run uncontested.
Later this year I’m travelling to South-East Asia for three months, and I feel gut-wrenchingly guilty about it. It’s not only because of the carbon emissions involved in flying, nor the chequered and problematic history of white people journeying through Asia over the centuries. Since long before Elizabeth Gilbert ate, prayed, and loved around the globe, people from one place have travelled to another place, returning with souvenirs, stories and “new” ideas. It’s tempting to view this dissemination as a holy form of multiculturalism that celebrates social, cultural, ethnic, and linguistic difference, but I think that this belies a much shadier truth: self-interest in all its forms is the bedrock of travel.
This week in America, on the first Tuesday of November, a very different race will stop a very different nation. It is a race with much more at stake. It is a race to majorities in the House of Representatives and Senate. It is, among other things, a race to be Governor in 36 states, to legalise recreational marijuana in Michigan and to give ex-felons the right to vote in Florida. This Tuesday, America votes in the midterm elections.
It is only recently that McAllister returned to perform, for the first time since becoming artistic director, in the Australian Ballet’s production of The Merry Widow in Melbourne. On a stage saturated by diamond-studded dresses and scarlet curtains, McAllister appears as Njegus, the bumbling secretary to the ambassador. Pantomimic and slapstick, the fantasy is in full swing—and McAllister knows how to play the game. The audience drinks deeply from his perfectly timed winks and silly walks, revelling in the comedy.
So, no, I do not have a white name. I wish other non-white people didn’t either. Our names are beautiful. They speak of our roots, cultures, homes we so dearly love. I would rather repeat my name thrice than cut it to make someone else more comfortable.
Queers are outraged about the proposed regulation of poppers—and the restriction of its recreational use. And rightly so. The arguments against these regulations are convincing—it’s your body and your choice to ingest whatever substance you like. But every new prohibition on social behaviours comes from somewhere and we should ask what made regulating poppers possible in the first place, to properly critique these immoral policies.
The night was sweltering, despite all the jingles. Snow was a laughable concept for this part of the globe. A white Christmas even more so. Handcrafted snowflakes in windows were a poor substitute, but this festive season brought out a desperation like no other. Harry made himself comfortable on the roof, keeping his swinging legs from hitting the gutter. It was imperative that his hiding spot wasn’t compromised, for his opponent had been in the game long enough to prove a worthy challenge.
These three stories are the winning entries from the gothic-themed micro-story competition associated with the exhibition Dark Imaginings: Gothic Tales of Wonder curated by Special Collections in the Noel Shaw Gallery, Baillieu Library. The challenge was to use 300 words (or less) to tell a gothic story. While the exhibition focused on the gothic from c 1750 to 1900, the competition was open to free interpretation of the word “gothic”.
She was on her knees by a depressive begonia.
“They’re not getting any air in here,” she said when she saw me. “It’s gotten to the point where I have to go around breathing on them, multiple times a day.”
I unloaded the box on the kitchen counter.
in a cabin above the irksome sea where the electric heater thaws us we make pancakes for lunch pasta for dinner we play at domesticity we watch a movie we disagree vehemently the night appoints us fools you tell me you love me let’s retire these ugly games and go to bed
Beveridge begins with a sunrise of colours that melt across the page, however the middle half of her collection felt gloomy and the divide between Wolf Notes and Storm and Honey was strong and jarring. But to watch her poems adapt and to feel a sense of accomplishment, that’s something I want to learn from.
Farrago is ecstatic to announce that we will be publishing a novel for the first time this summer. The Catastrophic Fantasy by Kangli Hu comes out on 26 December. Get your advance copy today for just $99.99. Take a look at what people are saying below!