Like most of us, Jamie “Stedo” Stedman isn’t a fan of labels. But if there’s one word to describe him, given his tumultuous childhood, capacity for forgiveness, near death experiences and refusal to become a victim, it’s “resilient”.
Month: January 2021
I don’t know what to do with my hands as I stand at the door waiting to meet my idol: the legendary writer Phillip Herns. A flash fiction piece over at Daily Drunk Mag.
Like most of us, I do try to be a nice person. It’s mostly for selfish reasons, to be honest. I want to be so stable and happy within myself that no-one can bother me, or mess with the remaining shreds of my equanimity, or some shit. I can’t think of a better place to practice than the most annoying place on earth: the humble supermarket.
Not many authors can write an immersive novel from a galah’s perspective. Particularly a galah with remarkable perceptions of the world around her, dreams of flight and romance, a slight inferiority complex and a wild jealous streak. But not everyone is Tracy Sorensen.
Dana looks peaceful as she waits for me outside the library of her hometown in Bathurst. She’s staring at something – the birds, or maybe the trees – as I approach, rushing due to a mini-traffic jam I had not anticipated. Less than a decade ago our simple chat would not have happened, back when Dana’s agoraphobia, anxiety and depression caused her to retreat into herself for almost fifteen years.
When John “Swanee” Swan takes my phone call he answers with a surprising “Hey girl!”, even though we’ve spoken only once before. I suspect this level of familiarity is something he offers everyone, not just yours truly, since his passion these days is found not at the bottom of a bottle, or even while holding a microphone, but in the simple act of connecting with another human.
Being on the wrong side of 30, I’m very familiar with Gary “Angry” Anderson. Particularly his place in the music world as the loud-mouthed front man of Rose Tattoo, his crazy “bad boy” days, his charity work and youth advocacy. But before our interview last week, I had no idea of the deep-seated spiritual beliefs that form the crux of the man known as Angry.
I’ve read ol’ Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert twice now: the first time I read it, which was 10 years ago, I FRIGGEN HATED IT. The second time, much more recently, I LOVED IT. I have to put my emotions in…
A few years ago I headed to Bourke to experience the outback of Australia, on assignment to write 10 articles about the Darling River Run. “The Run” is a 730km drive bookended by the townships of Brewarrina in the north, and Wentworth…
My mother hated feet. In her opinion, it was acceptable that they existed, but unless sleeping or showering they should be tucked away, hidden from the world inside a nice pair of shoes.