A warning, before we begin. Most of the writing you’ll ever read on writing will try to persuade you that there is something about putting strings of words together that is very special indeed. Writing, you will be told, is the most human and enduring of the creative professions.
When my gaysian brothers seethe at profiles on dating or hook-up apps that state ‘no Asians’, or the glibly cutting ‘no rice no curry’, I sympathise with their hurt and anger. I know that seeing these statements over and over again will make even the most confident men doubt not only their sexual desirability but the possibility of finding camaraderie in the gay community.
‘Dirty politics’, for many, is a tautology. Isn’t all politics dirty politics? Whatever one might think of that proposition, as of this month the phrase has acquired a far more specific meaning in New Zealand, following the release of the latest book by investigative journalist Nicky Hager.
If the Abbott administration wants to get approval from corrupt governments to implement sketchy projects against the will of local residents, they might consider asking Australian mining company Lynas Corp for tips on how it’s done.
‘Why are comedians depressed?’ It’s one of those age old paradoxes like ‘why are contact jugglers so creepy?’ I’ve been one for ten years (a comedian, that is: not a creepy juggler) and I’ve frequently pondered the equation.