In my dream, I stand at the triple crossroads. Oily yellow light spills down onto the bitumen, barely illuminating the roads’ beginnings. To the eastern fork, I see the klongs of Bangkok, hear an echo over the long-tail boats: “this way to your past”. To the western way, the Australian countryside stretches infinitely, drowning in heavy rainfall: “this way to your future”. To the northern road, a Janus-voice of twin-speaking conjurers, beckoning me to choose their shadowed path: “our ways are unknown”.
Pre-COVID-19-lockdown-reality, I meant to go see Billy Elliot the Musical, based on the 2005 film of the same name. Not-so-surprisingly, I didn’t end up going. Instead I read about it, watched the movie, I even signed up for free at-home ballet lessons – this one wasn’t really followed through – and I got to reflect on the subtleties of the plot and the songs in the musical’s soundtrack.
If you have Netflix, which I assume the majority of you do because what else is there to do during a lockdown and pandemic, you’ve probably seen an ad or the trailer for the new Joe Mantello & Ryan Murphy film “The Boys in the Band”. This modernised adaptation tells the story of a group of homosexual men in the 1960s and how a birthday party in a small New York apartment can become the epicentre of self truths and confessions of old loves. It becomes the intersection of the diverse narratives and personalities of homosexual men everywhere.
During iso, I’ve bounced aimlessly through Wikipedia long enough to land on an article titled the ‘List of Discredited Substances.’ It includes the Philosopher’s Stone, a universal solvent, and even a unicorn’s horn. With each entry, is an explanation of how the substance was discredited, usually through various experiments (We apparently know unicorn horns don’t […]
The art upon gallery walls speak of deep histories, people immortalised in paint, lingering in their own mythologies. My feet always take me to the eighteenth-century European section, desiring to stand before illustrious portraiture of affluent women in creamy gowns, or poised families before pastoral landscapes, their homestead grandiose in the distance—beautiful, amorous, unified.
Okay, I don’t want to be a party grinch, but will you not agree with me on this: I think parties are repetitive. Someone calls for a party, we all plan, we go to a place, we eat a few snacks, drink a few somethings, laugh and talk for an hour then come back home — a standard party (of course, there are variations). I believe that if something is repetitive, we should make an effort to make sure it’s better.
Proactive is when you actively make sure that things don’t go wrong, reactive is when you react when things are going wrong. Here is an example so we are on the same page —say you keep up to date with lectures every day and develop your assignment every week — you are being proactive. Say […]
ecently, while moving in with my parents to a faraway suburb, I realized that I’d bought waaay too many books during my time alone at university. The point was: I needed a bookshelf. So, I went to Target— saw an 8-cube storage unit— 39 dollars only— great reviews online— sweet!
hen I first started trying to minimize my carbon footprint, one of the barriers I faced was (actually, “is”) the unbelievably high price tag on “zero-waste” products. (I didn’t plan on going zero waste because that’s too big of a commitment when living as a student, but I did want to replace certain high-use items with more sustainable and durable ones.)