Carolyn Huane
21 February 2016
Authors
In the inevitable encore, BØRNS apologises for his bad manners. “I’m sorry. I didn’t wish you sweet dreams…” And promptly launches into Sweet Dreams. I buy a t-shirt. Sweet Dreams Tour 2018.
A poem written about Carolyn Huane.
Graphics
strange land where meat regrets the eater &
it’s a rare strength indeed
ain’t sweetened by a drop of honey
Now his finger itches
to hatch from its enclosure
of moulting skin, inch up
beyond the down lights
to the paper-thin sky,
gossiping stars circling
I have only good intentions to tell
they shoot their way off into the abyss
all is bliss. all is well.
As Adventure Time enters its final season, Emma Michelle reflects on cartoons and relationships
differentiating wasps and bees
“Which school are you from?” Peter asked. “Fitzroy High School,” I responded naively. “Oh, never heard of it,” he said, drawling, “I’m from Scotch College. It was nice to meet you but I have to go.”
Gender diverse students at the University of Melbourne may not be able to receive Youth Allowance payments to which they are entitled from Centrelink because of their identity.
The University of Melbourne Student Union’s (UMSU)Education (Academic) Department is lobbying the University for a fairer lecture recording policy.
How To Deck Out Your Uni Pad For Free
I Think the Stars are Screaming
I think the stars are screaming honey.
Indigenous staff members were surprised to find that references to Indigenous employment targets have been removed from a proposed new version of a staff agreement.
Gareth Cox-Martin taps into Australia’s potential.
Hania Syed tastes an emerging trend.
Like in teen movies when the nerd girl takes off her glasses, I ripped my pants and was ready to disappoint my parents.
I, Wile E. Coyote, would like to lodge yet another complaint regarding two more of your faulty products.
Is he really that ridiculous or is it all an act?
Simone Williams meditates on the East West debate.
Couldn’t Escape If I Wanted To
Danielle Crocci recounts a life lived by Abba songs.
I would weave my fingers through the dirty forest of hair on the creature’s heavy head and I would apologise, over and over again.
Comments are closed.