Journal
Articles
Young Saigon
IN THE BUILDING opposite mine here in Ho Chi Minh City, still commonly called Saigon, an old man in...
Revering the other
EACH DAY AT sunset I sit on my fourth-storey balcony in Oman and look out over the pastel-pink town,...
A consensus for care
I USED PENCIL to write the due date for my baby in my diary. It was one of those...
Futurefear
Driverless Cars Transmogrify Ethics!Galahs spring-grapple from nest to road. AIs Writing Festive Songs!A puff and it is nothing – some...
Navigating life in art
THERE WAS A cynicism creeping up on me: the idea that all we did in the arts world, or...
The bystander
The median strip led to the other side of the highway. We emerged boot-first into a flood of oncoming headlights. Screams howled from the back seat. ‘I’m dead,’ I thought. Then it hit. Another car, speed meeting speed, like two protons colliding. I didn't get the luxury of a concussion. I stayed awake the whole way through. There was a glimpse of black, a few seconds max, when my head reeled from the soft impact against the dashboard. White pinwheels spun on the inside of my eyelids. Blood flooded back into my feet and fingers. After that everything went berserk.
Who owns the future?
THE FUTURE IS always arriving, in one form or another. There is no no future. It’s an absurdly simple...
A modern epic
I MEET THE immortals on a Wednesday evening in January. We’re upstairs on Russell Street, in a workspace shared...
A gonzo music memoir
SO YOU GET an urge. Something bristling within you that can only get out through something else. Maybe it...
Caring for country
SMALL FIRES STREAK the savanna beneath me, as the land is worked and cleaned. The gentle smoke on the...
Unpaid opportunities
I HAVE THIS social dread when meeting new people. A nervousness that keeps me on edge during the early...
Economic illiterates
THE YEAR I was born, Paul Keating dropped Australia’s corporate tax rate by ten percentage points. As I started...
