On sickness as present tense

Type
Article
Category
Illness
The Body

The problem with illness is that it robs you of pleasure. Young people are supposed to live in the moment, take risks, be spontaneous. But life in a hospital is a boring and cruel simulacra of life, with the minutiae of your body ticking like a machine being the best and only thing to focus on. In other words, you become self-obsessed, but not with gaining pleasure, more in avoiding pain.

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Type
Reflection
Category
Music
Palestine

Roger Waters and the politics of solidarity

We, hundreds of thousands of us, supporters of BDS and human rights throughout history all over the world join together in memory of Sharpeville and Wounded Knee and Lidice and Budapest and Ferguson and Standing Rock and Gaza and raise our fists in protest. We hurl our glasses into the fire of your arrogant unconcern, and smash our bracelets on the rock of your implacable indifference.

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Type
Article
Category
Activism
Class

‘We had Marx, they had Pauline’: left organising in poor communities

Those of us involved with political organising often harbour the belief that we are more politically aware than others; that the ‘ordinary people’ who exist outside our theoretical and organisational worlds are apathetic, or apolitical, or unenlightened. I have never found this to be particularly true. Like many people, those I met in Logan had lost faith in politics, but they were highly politicised.

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Type
Polemic
Category
the arts

Beyond startups: supporting Australian videogame culture

The Australian game industry’s reaction to the government response has been primarily one of frustration. While many senate inquiries receive no response at all, and the Abbott and Turnbull governments have never shown interest in supporting Australian videogame developers, the response nevertheless disappointed a burgeoning industry that has long struggled for recognition.

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Type
Review
Category
Writing

Something real in fiction: on Ryan O’Neill and Lynne Tillman

Reading ‘nonfiction’ can be like staring into a dark hole dug in the side of reality with just a penlight. The writer has excavated reality’s detail and arranged it neatly into words for our examination. Reading fiction, on the other hand, can be like staring at the stars for signs of the future: luminous and beautiful but not particularly illuminating, unless you’re an astronomer.