I live on the very edge of the hem of Melbourne’s hilly outskirts where I write essays, short stories and political commentary. Here’s my portfolio and my stuff on Medium.
Like Rachel Carson, I think living with a sense of awe is a radical act. It’s hard in the end-of-capitalism fire sale but still it seeps in sideways.
I enjoy trying to juggle two opposing ideas on the end of my nose.
I have ME and sometimes I wish I was dead.
My great grandfather was an oak tree. I have died and been reborn eleventy-three times. I would rather eat my own poo than watch Married at First Sight or be a public relations journalist. I am thirsty for the we, for the end of capitalism, and for the wholeness of everything – the way of seeing that is so hard to come by now but which exists in poetry and nature and the underused right hemisphere of our brains.
If that sounds pretentious to you, you might not enjoy my company. I’m sick of making myself smaller to earn other people’s favour. I think every human is a multitude forced to live in a mono-crop. Everybody is big enough that they contain multitudes. I love the mystical and the anarcho-syndicalist all at once. I love the idea of a tiny little federal government and a massive bulging welfare system administered by the people. I’m not interested in reducing myself to fit. Neither should you do such a disservice to yourself. There’s too many people in the world feeling bad because they don’t fit neatly into other human’s categorisations.
I think maybe we’re about to make a quantum evolutionary leap. Humans are a massively traumatised species, which is why we all behave so fucking badly. I hope we survive the leap.