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 blog.

These times are cracking us open so the light gets in. Can you feel it?

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 often over the past years I have wished I was dead. CBD oil is making me happy at times to be alive. Legalise all cannabis fully. Legalise heroin too. Legalise everything. I hate how our right-wing government blusters about how much it loves small government when in reality we are so over-governed it’s a wonder we can breathe.

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.

I reckon every human is a multitude forced to live in a monocrop. I love the mystical and the anarcho-syndicalist all at once. I love the idea of a tiny little state and a massive bulging nonprofit financial system administered by the people.

I fucking well love paradox, Rumi’s field and Leonard Cohen’s crack.

I know it sounds a bit crazy, but I sometimes think we’re about to make a quantum evolutionary leap.

I reckon humans are a massively traumatised species, which is why we’re so rigid and reactive. I hope, still and dimly and gently, for our future flourishing.