The new NSW premier wasted no time announcing an accelerated easing of the state’s COVID-19 lockdown last week, citing the economy, health, and mental health as the key reasons for the change. For anyone who’s suffered poor mental health over the last two years, hearing the government toss in the term ‘mental health’ as part of their decision making seems more than a little disingenuous.
As unusual as it may sound, there is nothing particularly wrong with Scott Morrison’s belief that he and his wife have been called upon to do “God’s work”. This is the real issue.
I can’t say for sure what prompted me to read Neil Gaiman’s The Ocean at the End of the Lane, although I do believe it was a combination of two factors: first, I was impressed by the speech Neil gave
Sue Monk Kidd’s 1996 book The Dance of the Dissident Daughter is a work of nonfiction about Sue’s journey away from the Christian tradition and towards what she calls the ‘Sacred Feminine’.
It is the fact that journalist Reni Eddo-Lodge has given up wasting time and energy talking to white people about race that makes her 2017 book, the aptly titled Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race, so darn
One of my favourite short books is Richard Bach’s philosophical work of fiction titled Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah. First published in 1977, this book features Richard as himself, a disillusioned writer and pilot, who happens to meet ex-mechanic
It is early morning on a gloomy, windy day. Country girl (ahem) is standing at the bus stop in the city, one hand holding a large suitcase which seems to continuously want to tip over, the other holding a much needed coffee, laptop bag handle over forearm, and umbrella held in place with right armpit. She is anxiously awaiting the bus, which never comes. Did I mention it had started raining?
When I was around nine, I asked my mother why she didn’t just divorce my father. In response, she looked at me like I just morphed into an alien. ‘Why do you hate your father so much?’ she asked.
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.
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.