Grapeshot Magazine | 'Sweet Sixteen'

GRAPESHOT VOLUME 8: ISSUE 1: SWEET SIXTEEN

ISSUE 1: SWEET SIXTEEN

CAMPUS NEWS & LIFE | ARTS & CULTURE | STYLE & SUSTAINABILITY | REVIEWS | & MORE

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CALENDAR FEBRUARY/MARCH MONDAY

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Orientation Week Begins Aussie Sports and BBQ

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TUESDAY

WEDNESDAY

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O Week Events Speed Friendship 3-5pm

O Week Events Bush Dance 4-7pm

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National Young Leader’s Day Sydney Olympic Park

Grapeshot x Ubar Poetry Slam 1pm

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THURSDAY

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GRAPESHOT ISSUE 2 RELEASED

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Payment Due For Session 1

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SUNDAY

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Featherdale Wildlife Park 8am-5pm Student’s Day

Last Date to Add EXTERNAL Unit(s) to Your Program

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Last date to Add INTERNAL Unit(s) to Your Program

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Career Fair Session 1

St Patrick’s Day

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SATURDAY

Sydney Writer’s Festival

Women’s Day

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FRIDAY

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World Book Day

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DRAMAC Angels in America Lighthouse Theatre

Earth Hour 8:30 pm

International Day of Happiness

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Good Friday

Census Date for Session 1

Easter Sunday

Harmony Day

Do you have an upcoming event? Let us know and we’ll do our best to include it in our calendar. Email grapeshot@mq.edu.au

I shouldn’t be too cynical, things could always be worse. I mean, I could have been that woman in Adelaide who found that huge Brown Snake under her fridge with a whole bunch of eggs... seriously, how do you go on living and trusting after something like that happens?

Okay the mag, it’s got the goods this issue. If this issue was a song, it would be Ignition (Remix) playing at 3am after all your friends have left you.

EDITOR’S LETTER Regina Featherstone

Um okay 2016, way to sneak up on us like that.

Lucky we had enough time to pick a bitcin’ team to get the goods ready for you. We have been working hard all summer to bring you a tight and right first issue. If you think of the tenacity of Leo DiCaprio’s character in The Revenant with the looks and sass of Queen Bey, you wouldn’t be far off what Grapeshot will be like in 2016.

This is my first issue as ‘Editor-in-Chief’ and while I have been involved with ol’ Grapey for several years now (I’ll leave uni one day, mum) I’m still nervous for how you guys will like it. Plz b nice x.

That’s enough about me. I hope everyone enjoyed the hols, got some travel in, made their parents do their washing and ate/drank waaay too much. I also hope everyone appreciated that super helpful suggestion the Government came up with to get us to pay back our HECS...You know, the one where they want us to dip into our superannuation. So, I hope everyone has followed and withdrawn that $2.10 and put it to your HECS. Also, don’t even think about going overseas to get out of that HECS debt (p. 14).

We cover all the sweet treats and bakeries you’ll need in The Cavity (p. 44) while providing all the wisdom you will need from Jaden Smith (p. 24).

We thought we would initiate our new Regulars Editor, Phil by giving him the challenge to go out for a night and drink all the Cruisers, Passion Pop and Smoonie he could handle. (Hint, he couldn’t handle much p. 16) We also look at Australia Day and what it represents to the Indigenous community and what it may take to celebrate our country more respectfully on p. 10. In News, we also cover Malcy Turnz and his Gov cutting funds to those frivolous pap smears us gals just love running the Gov $$ on (p. 12).

If ever there was exciting writing coming out of Australia, it is coming out of Western Sydney. Raw and real writing is beginning to be heard and we were lucky enough to speak with Luke Carman, who is at the forefront of this literary movement (p. 26).

We have so many exciting things coming up this year and this magazine is but a taste. If you want to be a part of any of it - we want you in on it! Like us on Facebook or email grapeshot@mq.edu.au for more info. Thanks bbs.

EDITORIAL & CREATIVE PRODUCTION EDITOR IN CHIEF Regina Featherstone DEPUTY EDITOR Amy Hadley FEATURES EDITOR Yehuda Aharon NEWS EDITOR Anna Glen REGULARS EDITOR Phillip Leason COPY EDITOR Rebecca McMartin COPY EDITOR ASSISTANT Erin Christie WEB EDITOR Angela Heathcote WEB DESIGNER Andrew Rasheed CREATIVE DIRECTORS Hussein Nabeel and Caitlin Thom MARKETING TEAM ADVERTISING MANAGER Ellen Barrett MARKETING MANAGER Aura Lee OUR AWESOME CONTRIBUTORS Leah Aharon, Yehuda Aharon, Sarah Basford, Saed Batshon, Vanessa Capito, Cece Chidiac, Cameron Colwell, Angus Dalton, Madi Day, Eloise Goodman, Angela Heathcote, Rebecca Hill, Harrison Howard, Jake Jackson, Nikita Jones, Phillip Leason, Lina MacGregor, Adrian Nguyen, Alicia Scott, Sarah Selig, Jessica Sheridan, O. Sosweti, Nick Wasiliev, Charbel Zada EDITORIAL REVIEW BOARD STUDENT MEMBERS Sarah Basford, Chantell Bailey, Sarah Cameron, Natalie Dainer, Kris Gilmour, Emma Grimly, Yi Wong, Timothy Zhang COORDINATOR Melroy Rodriques PUBLISHER Kim Guerin

Grapeshot would like to acknowledge the Darug people as the traditional custodians of the land on which we work, and pay our respects to their elders, past and present.

| 17th - 19th | 23th - 26th |

March 2016

www.dramac.org

/DRAMACSociety

ISSUE 1: SWEET SIXTEEN

CONTENTS 7 NEWS & OPINION

15 REGULARS

8 NEWS FLASH

25 FEATURES

37 CREATIVE

16 THE CHALLENGE:

26 WOULD-BE WRITERS

38 WHERE IS WILLIE?

SWEET SIXTEEN GALS’

BEWARE

40 LIGHTS OUT 41 ARM HAIRS

NIGHT OUT

28 I DID NOT QUIT SUGAR

AND AUSTRALIA DAY

18 WHEN YOUR PARENTS

30 SEXUAL AT SIXTEEN

12 GOVERNMENT CUTS

WERE SIXTEEN

32 EYES ON THE PRIZE: IS

LEAVE HEALTHCARE

20 THE AGE OF CONSENT

ISIS THAT IMPORTANT?

DELIVERY ON LIFE

22 ARTISTS IN PROFILE

34 INTERVIEW WITH JIHAD

43 REPEAT OFFENDERS

SUPPORT

24 ADVICE FROM FAKE

DIB

44 THE CAVITY

14 PLEASE PAY US BACK

JADEN SMITH

36 IN A WORLD AT HALF

46 REVIEWS

10 INVASION, SURVIVAL

VOLUME, PERSONAL

50 HOROSCOPES

VILLAINS SCREAM THE

51 CROSSWORD

LOUDEST

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From 22 February - 11 March 2016*

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6 || News

NEWSNEWS & OPINION

NEWS FLASH

WORDS || SARAH BASFORD & JESSICA SHERIDAN

MACQUARIE CENTRE TO UNDERGO $1 BILLION DOLLAR DEVELOPMENT A proposal at the cost of almost $1 billion has been put forward to see the Macquarie Centre undergo major redevelopment. The owners of Macquarie Centre, AMP Capital, have launched a development proposal involving commercial, retail and residential upgrades to the centre.

The current design, detailed on the Macquarie Centre website, includes new facilities, more parking, and greater pedestrian access. The upgrade will introduce both above-ground and below-ground improvements, such as plans for an un-

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derground plaza connecting Macquarie University Train Station to the centre, and the construction of four towers with potentially 950 new apartments. The proposal comes after the NSW Government approved plans by Macquarie Park, which amongst other improvements, will build 5800 houses in the area by 2031 and upgrade the bus interchange at Macquarie Centre. Questions and feedback regarding AMP Capital’s development proposal are being received online or in person

NEWS FLASH

STRICTER RULES AND HARSHER PENALTIES FOR NSW CYCLISTS Riding your bike is soon to become a more expensive endeavour. Starting 1 March 2016 a series of increased penalties will be introduced by the NSW Government for cyclists sharing the road with drivers and pedestrians. Fines for cyclists will be increased for offences such as riding without a helmet, riding dangerously, and failing to stop at pedestrian crossings, with fines reaching upwards of $400. On top of this, cyclists will now be required to carry photo ID, such as a driver’s licence or NSW photo card, so that cyclists can be easily identified. These changes come as part of the new ‘Go Together’ campaign to encourage safety for riders, drivers and pedestrians. The State Government hopes to reduce the number of cyclists hurt on our roads, with current estimates from the NSW Centre for Road Safety indicating that 15 000 cyclists are injured annually. Full details of the changes affecting riders and drivers can be found at roadsafety.transport.nsw.gov.au

INVASION, SURVIVAL AND AUSTRALIA DAY HOW CAN WE CELEBRATE RESPECTFULLY? WORDS || MADI DAY

In the weeks leading up to 26 January, the Meat and Livestock Association released an advertisement depicting ‘Operation Boomerang’, a project lead by SBS presenter Lee Lin Chin that involved military invasion of other countries to bring ‘home’ white Australians for their national celebration.

Early after its release the advertisement had attracted more than 600 complaints.

Many were concerned with the depiction of violence and use of the Aboriginal word ‘boomerang’ to name a nationalistic military operation.

The misappropriation of an Aboriginal word and symbol to promote Australia Day, known as Invasion/Survival Day by Indigenous peoples, was met with disbelief and discontent from the wider Indigenous Australian community.

Luke Pearson, a Gamillaroi man and founder of the online Indigenous media 10

source, IndigenousX, commented “I just thought it was odd that on a day many of us call Invasion Day there’s an ad about Australia invading other countries to bring all those white guys ‘home’”.

The advertisement had been given the all clear by the Advertising Standards Bureau on the premise that the use of the word boomerang was “not a reference to Indigenous Australians but is meant as a reference to something which is to be returned”.

Celeste Liddle, Arrernte woman, writer and social commentator, argued that even though boomerang was a commonly used word, it was inarguably Aboriginal Australian. “We’re still very much trying to struggle for our rights and once again we’re being assimilated into a concept, this proud Australiana concept that a lot of us aren’t remotely comfortable with,” she stated.

“We don’t really appreciate being ignored while our images are being used.”

While non-Indigenous Australians see Australia Day as a celebration of nation and culture, it is known as Invasion or Survival Day to Indigenous Australians who understand the day as a marker of colonial invasion and the beginning of dispossession from their land and genocide of their people.

Survival Day acknowledges resilience and celebrates the survival of Aboriginal people and their culture. Aboriginal activists and organisers hold Day of Mourning and protest events on 26 January to recognise the trauma experienced by their people and to commemorate those lost to violent government actions as well as the Frontier Wars.

In Sydney this year, a silent march, organised by the Indigenous Social Justice Association and the Redfern Aboriginal Tent Embassy, commemorated the first Day of Mourning Protest by following the original route taken in 1938.

In addition to acknowledging other Aboriginal warriors for justice, the protest called for Sovereignty and the creation of a treaty, as well as an end to the Northern Territory Intervention, government controlled community funding, and Aboriginal deaths in custody.

By celebrating a day that ignores injustice for Indigenous people and a violent

colonial history, and using Indigenous images detached from their culture and context, mainstream Australian culture is erasing Indigenous people from the nation’s reality and history.

To show respect and solidarity with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, Australia Day could be changed to a date other than 26 January. Writer, actor and Gamillaroi/Torres Strait Islander woman, Nakkiah Lui, is one of many Indigenous people calling on the Australian Government to change the date.

“Most people just want a day to celebrate the place that they call home, to be part of a community, and to guide Australia into the future. I am one of these people, so why can’t we celebrate this on a day that includes all Australians? Surely there must be another historically significant date that can be trumped up to include every person in this country,” Lui said.

Rather than celebrating a date that marks the arrival of British colonialists on Aboriginal land, the Australian Government could choose another time and another way to celebrate and promote national unity and diversity. Perhaps then, Australians could understand our national identity as more complex than our current media would have us believe.

The author and publication acknowledge the Darug people, the traditional owners of the land on which Macquarie’s Campus stands. We acknowledge the Walanga Muru department and all Indigenous staff and students on campus. This always was and always will be Aboriginal Land.

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GOVERNMENT CUTS LEAVE HEALTHCARE DELIVERY ON LIFE SUPPORT WORDS || ALICIA SCOTT

Recent healthcare cuts outlined in the Mid-Year Economic and Fiscal Outlook (MYEFO) are expected to disenfranchise patients and adversely impact healthcare delivery in Australia. Last December, the Federal Government announced cuts to essential pathology and diagnostic imaging services that will take effect from 1 July 2016 and will equate to $650 million over four years.

From July this year, the Government will scrap the bulk-billing incentive it pays to health professionals for pathology services, such as pap smears, blood/urine tests and STI checks, and reduce the incentive for diagnostic imaging services, such as MRI scans, x-rays and ultrasounds. Broadly, this means that pathologists and practitioners will have to find money to fund these basic services without financial assistance from the Government.

This gouge out of the healthcare 12

system has left practitioners and patients outraged. The Australian Medical Association (AMA), the Australian Diagnostic Imaging Association (ADIA) and the Royal College of Pathologists of Australasia (RCPA) have all warned that patients will end up paying the full amount of these tests upfront to their general practitioner (GP). The ADIA has claimed these budget cuts will have a far worse effect on patients than the failed seven-dollar GP co-payment.

Dr Michael Harrison, President of the RCPA, stated in a media release, “These changes will undoubtedly compromise the high standards of care provided by the Australian pathology profession and it is very likely that patients will suffer.

It is very unlikely that laboratories will be able to absorb these costs and, as a result, will need to pass them on to the patient, increasing out of pocket expenses and causing unnecessary harm”.

While these cuts will burden everyone

to varying degrees, it is true that the most vulnerable groups in our society – women, people with chronic health diseases, Indigenous Australians, and the elderly – will be the worst hit. A Change.org petition, calling on Health Minister Susan Ley to keep pap smears and pathology services free, was well received by women and transgendered people.

The petition gathered nearly 150 000 signatures in 36 hours, reflecting the huge surge in opposition to the latest healthcare cuts from the Coalition.

In response to the outrage, Ley released a public statement asserting that health professionals were misleading the public regarding the proposed MYEFO cuts. Ley’s statement failed to even mention the Government’s cuts to bulk billing incentive payments, and incorrectly claimed that critics had been accusing the government of removing pap smears, blood tests and other services from the Medicare rebate list.

Since then, Ley’s office has admitted that patients should be “rightly suspicious” of paying more for essential health services but reassures us that further competition between pathology companies will keep prices low.

Yet Ley’s neoliberal rhetoric seems unrealistic and out of touch with the realities of those who will be forced to pay or forgo vital testing.

Furthermore, the Turnbull Government’s cuts are a huge step backwards in bridging the gap in life expectancy between Indigenous people and other Australians. Australian Indigenous Health found that Indigenous women were far less likely

to receive regular pap smears than non-Indigenous women due to a range of barriers that are often exacerbated for our First Nations people.

These barriers – physical access to GPs in remote areas, financial problems, and a lack of facilities and support networks to name a few – would be aggravated by the recent cuts and increase the likelihood of delayed diagnosis of chronic health diseases and cancer.

Overall, health professionals agree that these ‘savings’ will cost the government more in the longer term as effective diagnosis is delayed and patients forgo necessary pathological tests to detect disease. Not only does the Government demonstrate a lack of understanding of the effects that will be experienced by patients, but also how these cuts will impact our international reputation for low-cost and highly effective public healthcare. Compared with OECD nations, Australia spends significantly less on total health spending while having one of the lowest rates of mortality amendable to healthcare.

While Labor and the Greens have vowed to fight these changes, the cuts to pathological and diagnostic imaging services will be introduced by regulation and therefore do not require legislative oversight or a senate vote. Beyond the political arena, patients and practitioners are in for the struggle to keep our world-class, accessible and affordable healthcare.

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‘PLEASE PAY US BACK ‘ SAYS AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT WORDS || REBECCAR HILL

Gone are the days of university graduates living like renegades, sipping martinis as they fly through tax loopholes to foreign countries – avoiding the dreaded repayment of HECS loans.

Opening channels of communication about citizen tax information between countries, the scheme aims to improve Australia’s balance sheet by over $150 million in the next 10 years.

Previously the Australian Government has done little to address this issue, however in the face of rising university fees, evasion becomes more attractive and graduates may be seeing the economic benefit of stowing away to another country.

The Bill hopes for a more sustainable loan package that will not only see future students able to study but to extend the scheme as an option to ‘certain’ New Zealand citizens.

Currently offshore debtors are allowed to make a voluntary HECS repayment, however they are under no legal obligation to do so. With no tax return lodged, the ATO has no idea whether a graduate who borrowed under the HECS scheme is earning over the $53 000 AUD threshold.

As more and more young people are jet-setting it has become less of a back burner issue, as the government is losing up to $30 million per annum in unpaid university debts.

In May 2015, the then Minister for education and training, Christopher Pyne, announced new legislation that would roll out in July 2017 for the 2016-17 financial year.

“Currently, because graduates living overseas don’t have to do an Australian tax return, there is no way to know if they are earning above the threshold that triggers HECS repayments and many get off scott-free.”

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“From 1 January 2016, all Australians with current and new HELP and TSL debts who move overseas for six months or more will be required to notify the ATO via the myGov website to facilitate repayments,” said the now minister for education and training Simon Birmingham.

The Government argues that this is in the interest of borrowers, especially if they plan to return to Australia as the interest accumulated will have skyrocketed.

With the HECS scheme starting in 1989, the government will theoretically be asking for all borrowers living overseas to start repaying their loans. This includes tracking down those who have had their degree for over 25 years.

This government-decreed manhunt conjures images of storm-troopers and grey-hounds, where in reality the legislation, if passed, will probably prove to be more of a toothless tiger – a strong suggestion to please pay back the money you owe to the Australian Government.

REGULARS

The Challenge: Sweet Sixteen Gals’ Night Out WORDS || PHILLIP LEASON

This month I was challenged to rectify all the FOMO of my teenage years by having a gals’ night out. This meant a night where I could only drink Cruisers, Passion pop and the pre-mixed Smirnoff casks (smoon). So, one Sunday I whacked on my boyfriend-sized denim jacket, tucked my white tee into my jeans and slipped my hair into an adorable set of pigtails. I was looking the part of a sixteenyear-old girl, now it was time to live it.

Standard drinks consumed: 16.6 Sugar consumed: 1096g

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PRES First things first: the Bottle-O. Did you know there are actually 437 different flavours of Cruisers available? After several minutes of shrewd taste estimation I decided on the watermelon and ‘mocha mudshake’ varieties, and grabbed a cranberry smoonie and a bottle o’ pop, original. My uncontained excitement only improved my cunning disguise as a teenage girl, and the guy at the counter was notably vexed when he examined my ID to discover I was in fact a twenty-one-year-old man. $58 later I waggled a fist at the memory of K.Rudd and his dastardly alcopop tax as I piled into the car with my gal pals to crack Cruiser numero uno. I opted to start with the mudshakes, and nothing could have prepared me for that first sip. I was pretty certain I could feel actual granules of sugar in there, and I contemplated just how much worse these would be when they got warm later. We arrived in a backyard and I finished the four of them. The resulting sensation was uncannily similar to completing the two litre milk challenge, so I started on the smoon bag to ease my churning stomach. The tartness of cranberry made the smoonie a winner, but after an hour or so supping at Smirnoff’s sweet, boozy teat I started getting woozy. The girls had been squashed in a circle to take Instagram photos since we arrived, but Kelly broke out when I started swaying, “Phillip are you okay?” I gave a nod, silently rose, ran to the street and sprayed purple, milky mess everywhere.

The time was 6:24pm. I know this precisely because, in the spirit of camaraderie, the event was filmed and added to a Snapchat story.

The bubbles in the Passion Pop were only going to make things worse, so I abandoned that and started on the watermelon monstrosities. For all of their downfalls, I’ll say Cruisers are good for one thing: washing the taste of vomit out of your mouth.

With the four of those polished off, I was ready to hit the town.

IN DA CLUB My smoonie was still tucked under my arm when I approached Rhonda’s nightclub and I was crashing hard from the sugar high. To make things worse, my gals had abandoned me after the group decision that going out was too much effort. I ran into some friends who’d made it almost halfway down the infamous ‘Rhonda’s line’, and being that guy (or rather that girl) I ducked in with them. Hannah gave me the encouragement I needed to keep drinking (“fuckin’ finish that, you little bitch”) and I hid the dregs under a dumpster before batting my lashes at the bouncer and assuring him I’d only had two drinks.

“Sweet sixteen and never been kissed,” I flounced to queue for the toilets and greeted a guy I sort of knew. His response was to passionately embrace me, lock lips and slip me the tongue. Had I dressed like I was asking for it? This was my cue to go outside, fish the sad remains of my smoonie out from under the dumpster and perk myself up with a glucose fix. Employing my best sober walk I slinked back in and danced my troubles away.

Come 11pm it was time to head home. I’d had the lows, I’d had the highs, had some more lows, and after seven hours I was well and truly ready for bed.

Of course, like any sixteen-year-old, I didn’t have the option of calling mum or dad for a lift home because they thought I was doing homework at Lucy’s house. I was going to have to do the stumble, but I wasn’t willing to walk the full 13km home, so I hopped in a cab for part of the journey.

“To Copacabana please.”

“Copacabana! I used to go surfing down there in the seventies. Coulda bought a chunk of land for peanuts that would be worth millions now. I shoulda borrowed money from me old man or something. He was an arsehole though. He fucked my girlfriend. I’m glad he’s dead.”

Well, that escalated quickly, and the driver continued oversharing for the next 10 minutes. It turns out he was going to be the bass player of INXS (if only he could play bass), and it was mid-way through the story of his near sexual encounter with Michael Hutchence when I had to say, “just here thanks mate.” I staggered the last 1500 metres home and collapsed into bed, fully clothed.

THE MORNING AFTER At 6:45am I was woken by ringing, and I swung at my alarm to find I was just hearing the white noise of a hangover. All of my teeth had thick plaque sweaters on, and I may have given myself type 2 diabetes.

I’d successfully completed my challenge, but I felt no sense of achievement as I recalled the night.

I’d been sick, I’d been pushed into an act of intimacy I was uncomfortable with by an older guy, and I’d stumbled home on a windy road with no pavement or street lights. Realistically I was lucky to have made it home at all – and I’m an adult! If that was even vaguely accurate as a re-enactment of a night of underage drinking, I don’t want to be preachy, but good lord, the thought that actual sixteen-yearolds are doing this terrifies me. Maybe I’m just getting too old for this shit.

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Grapeshot Fashion: When Your Parents Were Sixteen WORDS || ANGELA HEATHCOTE

If your mum and dad twisted and shouted through the sixties My mother was 16 years old in 1980. From my first days at university, to my time now as an intern at a fashion magazine, I would peridoically rummage through her wardrobe. The pressure to dress accordingly was always relieved by the exclusivity of my mother’s wardrobe, and having never quite graduated to the eclecticism of the eighties, her cache of caramel and Mikado yellow antiques of the seventies were at my personal disposal. Regrettably, I veered away from her collection of bell-bottom jeans at the advent of the very stylish, yet now reprehensible black skinnies, so I can’t help but feel bitter every time I see a pair for an inflated price in stores. Almost equal is the regret I feel each time I see a threadbare denim jacket or a faded American Motorcycle shirt, tokens that my glam metal provocateur of a dad had in abundance, but so little of which is leftover. Repurposing relics of the past is not only exciting, but demonstrates a kind of fiscal maturity and subconscious concern for the environment. And it requires so little effort.

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“The only way for a woman, as for a man, to find herself, to know herself as a person, is by creative work of her own”, said Betty Friedan, and so women exploded into the sixties faced with entirely unfamiliar freedoms, along with a symbolically lower décolletage and plenty of DIY hems.

The new micro-anatomy of an otherwise average wardrobe staple is the most accessible of remnants from the period, and a disproportionate amount of neckerchiefs in vintage Pucci prints suggests they were also the rage. Your dad’s stocky turtleneck sweaters by some means fit into a single slot. Psychedelic patterns in burnt and earthy tones, likely to have been used as pyjamas at one time can be reworked into casual dress shirts, a flawless transition. If your parents aren’t the types to have hoarded their vintage treasures, I recommend reverting to the sleepwear section of any Vinnies or Salvos; it’s unlikely you’ll be disappointed.

If your mum and dad moonwalked through the eighties If your mum and dad bumped and hustled through the seventies Suede fringes in caramel and cream, and folk dresses in paisley print, light and breezy. The free spirit of seventies bohemia is a true product of its time. A Swedish army coat or a corduroy Sherpa jacket, camel coloured, is likely to be tucked away in the farther corners of your dad’s wardrobe, too expensive to just throw away, patiently waiting to resurface. Decorated turbans made of Chinese silk and lengthy twirls of faux fur were the mischief of the decade, while cork soles and vintage Mary Jane’s have been restored and placed in op shop windows for simperingly reasonable prices. The growing environmental concern of the decade amounted to the first official Earth Day in the United States, to fight against the negative effects of industrialisation, and thus natural fabrics and DIY became an established ritual. Handmade love beads and mood rings told of the increasing fascination with the non-western world, easily recreated with the beads, stones and gems that overcrowd second hand stores on tiny perches. The personal favourite has to be seventies slogan tees, including, but not limited to “Go Fuck Yourself” and “The Future is Female”, a testament to our feminist forebearers!

Band tees, as my Dad would have it, were a form of eighties regalia, not something you just bought at any merchandise store. They were something you queued for desperately, then spattered in blood, sweat and tears during the performance.

These are some of the only surviving items from this decade I’ve been able to utilise from my parent’s wardrobe (it’s proven to be impossible to refurbish the leather motorcycle jacket that has hung in my garage). Nevertheless, the eighties are truly alive. High impact clothing and excessive frills were tokens of colourful personalities, and whilst I used to brush past the exaggeration of the eighties that so often adorns the mannequins of every op shop, a trademark of fun, it’s become hard not to indulge. The sartorial splendourof the decade is captured in the squeak of spandex, pared back with a plain white tee, or larger than life earrings, lavishly eighties and a cheaper-than-you-think staple, contrasted against a simple black dress. If your wardrobe is a tad lacklustre due to the pecuniary difficulties of university life, ransack your grandmother’s jewellery box for clip ons. Just be sure to insist to your parents that you whole-heartedly understand the sentimental value of their almighty band shirts.

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THE AGE OF CONSENT WORDS || CECE CHIDIAC

The age of consent in Australia is 16 but let’s face it, teenagers everywhere are having sex.

It’s been that way since I was a teen, and I don’t imagine it will stop any time soon.

I was still pretty shocked when I learned that a 13 year old I knew recently had sex for the first time. When I was 13 I was running around our cul-de-sac with my brother, getting yelled at by our mum for being dirt-smeared menaces, or going to the beach with my friends and pouring all our resources together to buy mango sorbet, but times have changed. In 2016 the media is hyper sexualising women, sex is being discussed more openly than ever before, and we have dating apps where you can arrange to meet strangers for one night stands. People are enjoying sex without the hang-ups they would have experienced in earlier decades.

So, hypothetically speaking, if sex didn’t run the risk of contracting diseases or falling pregnant, would it be that much of a big deal? We get 20

back massages, buy foot spas, drink red wine and do yoga because it makes us feel good.

Sex is a normal part of life and, when you eliminate the risks, it has many health benefits. Should we as a society care all that much at what age it starts?

Yes, we should. Unfortunately disease and pregnancy are not the only potential ‘side effects’, and sex can lure out some pretty intense emotions. I feel no shame for emotional proclivities; I get sad when I see a tree swaying in the wind on a barren hillside, and I’ll still cry no matter how many times I watch Titanic.

But I’m in my twenties now, and I am much more capable of making responsible adult decisions (kind of).

In the early teen years you’re feeling everything for the very first time in the most extreme ways, and sex can change a person.

Why do you think Romeo commits suicide when he believes Juliet to be dead, and

she does the same when she awakens from her self-induced coma? They take their own lives rather than live without each other. Yes it’s from the Elizabethan Era, but the tragic metaphor still pervades – your first experience with love, the obsessive kind of love, can potentially kill you.

Despite the continual sexual revolution there are still so many stigmas surrounding sex in 2016, especially for young people. There’s particular judgement against an older girl dating a younger guy, whereas the opposite does not attract as much criticism. Young gay couples are also frequently criticised, with many people claiming they are merely going through a ‘phase’. When shame becomes attached to something which is entirely normal, it’s damaging.

Having a specific age where sex becomes acceptable is a weird concept to begin with, and with the array of unfortunate stigmas attached to relationships it becomes impossible to conclude that one-age-fits-all. After a little research

I discovered that the age for consensual sex in Australia has more or less remained the same since the 1900s. I find this fascinating, that despite the many social revolutions and all of the varying opinions on the age, it has remained the same for so long.

As we all get older and look back on our time as teenagers we realise how difficult and confusing it was to wade through everything we were experiencing, and even as an adult not many of us have it all completely figured out. So 16 as the age to be ‘allowed’ to have sex seems pretty legitimate. I have yet to find many people I know who think it should be lowered. We can’t condemn anyone who has sex before 16 if they’re being safe and feel they’re ready, but encouraging teenagers to aspire to wait until they are 16 at the very least isn’t so bad in my eyes. Let life throw you some of its other shit before it gives you the big stuff.

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ARTISTS IN PROFILE WORDS || VANESSA CAPITO

Let’s reminisce for a second. I want you to think back to what you were doing when you were 16.

Were you dreaming big? Thinking if you pushed yourself hard enough you could achieve whatever it was you put your mind too? Maybe you were forming strong new friendships in high school, and having new experiences. I hope you were.

Otherwise, if you were anything like me, you were still convincing yourself you weren’t too old to still be watching The Lizzie McGuire Show and That’s so Raven on Disney. Looking back now, eight years later, I wonder what I could’ve achieved back then had I really taken some of my passions seriously. So for the sake of an achievement crisis let’s move on to some school age teens who are actually cool and are actually achieving things in music.

SHIN†O The ever-mysterious shin†o outputs an inventive hybrid of trap and mindfulness music with a really earthy-landscape vibe. It’s production like you’ve never heard. To be honest, pretty much the only info we’ve got on this guy to prove he’s a cooler teen than we were (as if conspicuous anonymity in music isn’t cool enough) is that he’s definitely high school age because he was featured in Triple J’s ‘Unearthed High’ last year. You can check out his music on SoundCloud. Based on the Gold Coast his tracks like Medication Meditation and Beugs Under The Waterfall will take you “astral traveling to a place where you’re just going hard”.

Hear shin†o at: www.soundcloud.com/shint0

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E^ST

Lastlings

Lupa J

You may or may not have heard E^ST on Triple J, and her enchantingly funky rendition of The Verve’s Bitter Sweet Symphony, but you should definitely check her out. The seventeen-year-old from the Central Coast released her second, four-track EP The Alley in September last year. With up beat tracks like Disappear and single The Alley that demonstrate her incredible vocals and a talent well beyond her years, it’s clear she’s someone you should definitely keep an eye on in 2016. E^ST is something you’ll want to play loud, that’ll also leave you questioning, “why the fuck wasn’t I this cool when I was seventeen?”

Growing up, did you ever think that maybe your sibling was cooler than you? Well, it’s certainly not the case for Lastlings, a brother and sister duo, Joshua and Amy Dowdle from the Gold Coast. Instead of fighting over who got to ride in the front seat, these two were busy making dreamy-pop soundscapes to tickle your spine.

The most recent single Chills that they released late last year showcases Amy’s angelic voice paired with waving synths, and it’ll get you right in the feels. Lastlings also released their EP ‘Unreality’ in January. Largely self-produced and recorded, it’s an achingly wondrous gem. Oh yeah, and by the way, Amy is still in high school.

Seventeen-year-old, classically-trained violinist, Imogen Thomson is Lupa J. From Sydney, Thomson is the female dreampop artist you’ve been searching for, who at 15 decided to pursue her passion for indie-electronic songwriting and production.

Following the five-track EP, ‘The Seed’ she released in 2014, Thomson also released two singles late last year, Armour and Dirty Skin which can be compared to slightly darker, a more mysterious version of Grimes (who she supported in January). Her beautifully crafted tracks will remind you that the youth of today totally don’t suck. She even shaved off her locks last year as part of the World’s Greatest Shave initiative.

Hear E^ST at: www.soundcloud.com/iameastofficial

Hear Lastlings at: www.soundcloud.com/lastlings

Hear Lupa J at: www.soundcloud.com/lupajmusic

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Advice from Fake Jaden Smith WORDS || NICK WASILIEV

Dear Jaden, I’m worried about transitioning from high school to university. I don’t know if I’m prepared for independence. How can I handle uni life?

-Anne Hey Anne, I gotta lay some truth bombs down for you. Uni isn’t real because it ends with a piece of paper. It’s brainwashing! It’s not true, it’s not real. Learning can’t be confined to a classroom, you NEVER stop learning.

How do I know that? I’ve been trying to start an acting and music career for years, you never get it right the first time (especially when you hang out with Justin Bieber). So learn and do crazy. Break the crazy records, eat crazy food. Have you ever eaten disco crab, a crab made of mirrors? One-day people will think you are revolutionary! Like Galileo. Like Chad Kroeger. Like me.

So what should you do to be crazy? It’s a new year, and remember: the more time you spend awake, the more time you spend asleep. So instead, try and do meditation, and channel your inner karate kid (with plenty of wax too). Look at the mystical and philosophical side of things, and soon you will realise that everything in this world is just so relative. You know time?

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Relative. Thyme? Relative.

Take this magazine for relativity. The weight of its pages. The intricate binding. The words you are reading now. Everything. But how can the magazine be real if our eyes aren’t real? We can’t see our own eyes; does that make us not real? And if that makes us not real, does that mean we only exist in other people’s minds? And if we only exist in other people’s minds, does that mean this world isn’t real? If it isn’t real, does that mean we’re in The Matrix? And if we’re in The Matrix, and robots and aliens exist, does that mean we have Men in Black too? Hang on, I better ask Dad if telling you my seeds of brilliance is the right career move. The other galaxies and dimensions keep talking to me about stuff humans don’t understand. Something about the word ‘delusion’ and rejecting something called ‘Scientology’… and staying away from any movie director with the last name ‘Shyamalan’.

If all else fails pretend to be a newborn baby and don’t speak, people will think you’re the most intelligent being on earth.

FEATURES

WOULD-BE WRITERS BEWARE AN INTERVIEW WITH LUKE CARMAN WORDS || ANGUS DALTON

“I

was a total fucking mess when I was sixteen. I was subhuman. I was totally confused. I was in an absolute hinterland of shame, uncertainty, and constant terror.

I was afraid of everything and everyone. I didn’t see any hope of improving my situation. I was drinking too much, stoned most of the time, I learned nothing between the ages of ten and eighteen. I was completely, irredeemably sexist, and racist, and homophobic, and not capable of appreciating anything other than violence, brutality and criminality. I’ve made some improvement since them. Not a hell of a lot, but some!”

Luke Carman is being modest. Not about the being sixteen part – that’s all honest – but he’s definitely downplaying the improvement he’s made in his life between 16 and 30. He’s now the Associate Director of ‘Sweatshop’, a literacy movement in Western Sydney that champions and publishes stories that bust the stereotypes of the area being a cultureless, violent void. He’s also a published author. His book of intertwined short stories set in his hometown of Liverpool, An Elegant Young Man, won the 2015 NSW Premier’s Literary Award for New Writing.

He was hailed by the press as a new literary star who was injecting vitality and meaning into the apparent cultural vacuum of Western Sydney. But it’s a sentiment he rejects.

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Western Sydney is actually the most densely-populated locality in the nation with the widest variety of Indigenous languages. But if you have a problem with Western Sydney, fictitious or otherwise, Luke believes literature isn’t the answer.

“There’s an assumption that there is something lively, important, beneficial, sublime about literature itself, which I don’t think is necessarily the case. I think if anything, the emergence of literature in an area is a sign of some sort of atrophy. Some sort of loss. I think it’s totally absurd to argue that there’s something progressive or liberating or some kind of justice is arising just because literature is emerging. The essential point of literature is that there is no point. It’s completely useless. People make insane assertions like writing has been demonstrated to increase empathy. And that’s fucking nonsense. It’s obvious that people who engage with higher culture are still capable of psychopathic atrocities. Hitler wasn’t a philistine. As soon as you start using science to demonstrate the value of the humanities, you’ve fucked yourself.”

Obviously, Luke isn’t one to delude himself into believing that he was doing anything practical or revolutionary by publishing his stories. He didn’t set out to change

the world or breathe life into the apparently bereft streets of Liverpool, illuminated only by the neon signage of empty kebab shops or the occasional racial flare up. He wasn’t intent on inventing some X-Factor backstory or imposing himself onto a marginalised community as ‘their voice’ as the ostensible reason for his motivation to write and get published.

“I think one of the weird things about writer culture is that people are driven by this ambition to publish. They decide they want to be a writer, usually because they have a tense relationship with reality, so they come up with these superb, decent reasons for wanting to be published, but none of them are true. The dream of every writer is to have their own single-authored publication come out in print. If you succeed, they deliver a box to your house with a few copies of your book in it, you cut it open, and it’s wonderful, and then this strange, hollow feeling takes over and you realise you don’t really know why you did it. I think if people who want to write knew what the experience was like they’d pause for thought.”

Okay. Ouch. That’s hard to hear for any hopeful writer. But even if getting published does turn out to be an abysmal experience, I guess you can move on to other projects that are more worthwhile, with the confidence and status of an award-winning, published author? No. “Once you’ve been to the point of publishing, life is over for you. You are now a book-making machine. That’s all you are capable of doing. They often talk about the ‘ice in the eye of the writer’ - anything that happens to a writer, no matter how tragic or blissful or static, is experienced in kind of a secondary way, because it’s all just raw material for writing. Once people realise that’s what you’re like, once your close friends realise what it means to have such a traitor in

their midst, they can’t help but experience themselves second hand too when they’re dealing with you. They wonder whether you’re going to turn this into something else, are you remembering this moment for later, and they don’t feel comfortable with it. Your innocence is over for good.”

So all you aspiring authors out there, just remember that if you want to publish a book, any justifications you have for doing so are probably bullshit, your innocence will be quashed and your friends will hate you, but it’ll all feel empty anyway. After this nihilistic view of the publishing world, I’m baffled to find out that Luke both teaches creative writing and he has intentions to release another book. Does he seriously think that literature is completely pointless? Would the world be the same if we eradicated it tomorrow?

“No! Without literature we wouldn’t have made it.

Culture is the fruit by which we know ourselves. Without it we’re completely lost. To say that it’s pointless is not at all the same thing as saying that it’s meaningless. Terry Eagleton, an old dinosaur professor, says that art, like God, is one of those rare, sacred, autotelic phenomenon that exists purely for its own self-satisfaction. And that’s not to say that it’s worthless. That’s the reason that it’s sacred – it doesn’t have some sort of mercantile, mercenary, productive, material, measurable, quantifiable essence. That makes it the most important thing there is.”

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I DID NOT QUIT SUGAR WORDS || LEAH AHARON

L

et’s start by saying this is not a fitness, health or ‘I quit sugar’ promotion. I really had very little choice in the matter, but saying that, I still wouldn’t take it back.

In April 2013 I was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). For those of you who know anything about IBS, they know that calling it a diagnosis is a bit of a stretch.

You go to the doctor and they tell you they have no idea so unless it becomes something dangerous, they leave you to wallow in its pain. This is why more than one in 10 people have it at some point in their lifetime.

Once diagnosed, I went through an elimination diet to see what seemed to piss off my bowels. An elimination diet is where they remove all things pleasurable from your diet then slowly re-introduce them to discover what causes your pain. This inhumane process left me starving for longer than the two week process. The doctor discovered specific reactions to wheat, most gluten products, cane sugar, fructose and sucrose, and lactose.

Sugar, gluten, dairy. Sugar, gluten, dairy.

Sugar, gluten, dairy. Not even minute amounts of this terrible trio would excuse me from suffering. Many of you will not know how much of your diet is cancelled out and it doesn’t matter how ‘healthy’ you think you are.

I remember my first meal: red quinoa, avocado, capsicum, egg, and tomato. I had no idea what I was doing and what I was left with was repulsive. It was dry, tasteless, and

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nowhere near filling.

This all took place in 2013 and while paleo diets were beginning to show their face, it had definitely not yet reached the gaggle of sixteen-year-old girls I called my friends. I had no idea what to eat. Ever. When I Googled it, the only other people who kept similar diets were fitness fanatics and even they had their cravings! By comparison, there was me, an average teenage girl who hadn’t done any exercise since the sports carnival the year before (and let’s be honest, I probably came last); I had no motivation and was terrible at self-control.

All I knew was that if I ate this, after my taste buds were satisfied, I would spend the next 24 hours constantly shitting, farting out deadly gases, and worst of all, writhing in pain. Imagine somebody gripping your gut so hard their nails slip into every inch of your insides. Grab it. Pull it. Knot it. Punch it. Rip it into a million pieces then mix vinegar and baking soda in your stomach. Think of the worst period pain you, your friends, your girlfriends, have ever experienced and triple it.

Some people thought I was exaggerating, or made it up for who knows what reason, and sometimes I thought my body was lying to me. How does it make any sense for something as deliciously tasty as chocolate or ice cream to be so cruel? We were lifelong friends, it couldn’t hurt me, together we had always been invincible. Those midnight snacks when mum wasn’t looking, the sugar highs, or something as simple as my daily vegemite sandwich, were now my worst enemies.

Who said the doctor knew what they were talking about? I retested myself more times than I could count, constantly thinking maybe this time I’d be okay. That never worked as much as I hoped. Eventually I learnt, it was not a choice, I just had to do it.

Looking back, the first two weeks of complete self-control was torture. I was constantly hungry. Dinner time was the only meal I felt sufficiently full because my mother prepared everything and still I couldn’t always count on it. During the day I’d fend for myself. Fruit, vegetables and corn thins did not satisfy. I was still discovering what was available in Coles let alone what to do with it and this was before my Coles had the health sections.

Being as lazy as I was, I never looked much into substitution, or food experimentations, I’d just make combinations of whatever was in the fridge. If we went out I became that teenage girl on this ridiculous diet – restaurants would decide if they wanted to take me seriously or not. My stomach shrank dramatically to the point where a cucumber filled me up. Within the month I lost over seven kilos.

But something I never expected started to happen – the compliments started pouring in. I went down a size and dropped weight that nobody even knew was there. I felt amazing. Soon my dietary restrictions became the most entertaining thing about me, anyone that met me somehow found out and that was how they remembered me, even my friends started to use it to describe me and it became my life. It became me.

Now I was that quiet, thin girl who couldn’t eat anything. That is what justified it all to me: I couldn’t, so that meant it wasn’t dangerous. I was just healthy, which was true but completely false. After a few months with not much more weight to lose, I still looked quite healthy (I naturally have a thick look), but I began to notice small things that became difficult: opening bottles, lifting

heavy objects, but I accepted this.

My energy levels went from refreshingly high after my ‘lifestyle change’, to dramatically low and then I realised things needed to change. I started eating double of whatever I could, suddenly aware of how my body and life had changed. I began despising this new identity – before I was mostly proud and confident in my body, my looks, strengths and weaknesses, now I started noticing the differences in how people treated me. And yet, all my friends wished they could eat like me. As far as appearance was concerned, I nearly had ‘the body with no effort’. Skinny, boobs, bum, long hair and a pretty face.

Is that really the most entertaining thing about me?

My ‘double diet’ only resulted in me gaining a kilo or two so I decided to take more dramatic control of my appearance. My whole life I’d had long brown wavy hair, but I wanted to escape ‘pretty girl’ look, so, I cut it all off. I wanted to look like a boy, to slip under the radar and just be me again.

It was so liberating, for around a day, but that was all I wanted. I was still the girl that couldn’t eat anything but in a single hour I redirected the focus from my appearance and eating habits. It made such a difference, it felt like the world looked at me differently.

I was so much more confident in who I was, not what I looked like. It wasn’t always easy but I’d just remind myself of my progess.

That was a turning point where I realised I could be more than my looks. I realised that I was in control, once I was comfortable.

For the first time, my young sixteen-yearold self realised it didn’t matter if that’s what people saw, because it was me! It stands out, and that’s okay. I just needed to prove to myself what else I had in me, redirect my focus and not let it consume me.

I also learned the secret to dieting - everything in moderation. Now that I’ve got the hang of my diet, I’m quite healthy and eat

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SEXUAL AT SIXTEEN WORDS || LINA MACGREGOR

“A

normal man, given a group photograph of school girls and asked to point out the loveliest one, will not necessarily choose the nymphet among them”, claims a middle aged Mr Humbert Humbert, who becomes infatuated with Dolores in Vladimir Nabokov’s classic novel Lolita. Dolores, ‘plain Lo in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock’ is thirteen years old. The book gained much controversy upon its eventual publication over the tale of Humbert and his obsession with the ‘nymphet’. His character is almost comical, likeable, yet the lust and control he expresses towards Lolita and her naïve submissiveness brings attention to an eerie truth.

Today, young girls like Nabokov’s Lolita, are manipulated to appear desirable.

Sex sells – it embodies pleasure, success and attraction and thus invites the consumer to consume. The female is a commodity used as a tool for profit. Sex as an image has infiltrated mainstream pop culture in newer and bolder ways since the age of the internet and social media. What was once hidden from view, such as pornographic films and imagery is now blasted on billboards, in magazines, in music videos and even on fashion runways.

Go back to 1993. Baring all, a seven-

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teen-year-old Kate Moss debuts her first Calvin Klein advertisement while Marky Mark stands over her. This campaign pushed the busty, athletic physique of the eighties out of the minds of consumers.

This drastic change in cultural imagery came in the aftermath of the HIV/ AIDS epidemic of the eighties. The age of death, disease and promiscuity, bore little relation to the free love of the sixties and seventies. What does all this mean for us today? Put simply, this has blurred the lines between being sexual and being sexualised.

The notion of enjoying sex has been identified as strictly male, yet the female is sexually restricted. She is sexualized because she is encouraged to perform to be desirable for others. Young boys are taught to understand and connect to their own desire, they are considered naturally sexual.

Industries such as porn and fashion have glamorised the act of looking promiscuous as attractive and shamed those for doing it. Popular pornography shows women tied, choked and submissive to men. Often these women do not explicitly decide on positions or the level of pressure. This deceives boys and girls of the reality of sex, which

should demand consent.

Sexualisation is a performance and it isn’t always so effective. Pornographic images of hairless women with a petite frame have seeped into the mainstream. Advertisements with women seductively rubbing their hair and body for Herbal Essence shampoo or runways featuring under-aged waifs are but some examples of this influence. One of the biggest events in pop-culture, the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, makes use of a nineteen-year-old Taylor Hill wearing nothing but baby doll pink bras and angel wings, further encouraging the good girl/bad girl aesthetic shown in porn.

Notoriously, the fashion industry holds a long list of models below the age of consent who have gained success dressed in clothes targeted to older women. A ‘Lolita effect’ unfolds; young girls are draped in the designs made for the more mature, and older girls feature in pornography with girlish physicality. The young girl has become a pin up for attractiveness and style, but can she live up to these expectations herself?

Does she even wish to do so?

There are unrealistic portrayals and mixed signals of what the girl should and should not do. To be sexually active at 16, a young girl will often be judged for her actions and tarnished innocence.

But girls are sexual beings, just as boys are. The character Lolita at first glance, appears to enjoy the flirtation and affection given from Humbert, and often discusses her sexual encounters with a boy she met at camp, offering to ‘teach’ Humbert what she had learnt. Humbert, like popular culture, takes advantage of her sexual intrigue to fulfil his own sick fantasies. He profits from her

naivety, by calling it ‘love’.

Society demands the young girl perform the submissive, stylish ‘nymphet’ because, if she is pretty, she will be loved and thus successful. Even before the age of consent, girls as young as five are exposed to hyper-sexualized imagery, encouraging them, like Humbert did, to be the modern day Lolita; “ninety pounds is all she weighs, with a height of sixty inches” writes Nabokov. In the midst of this mainstream sexed aesthetic, there is almost no public discussion regarding the realities of sexual intercourse or masturbation.

Why is it that we advertise sexual promiscuity as acceptable for young girls and boys yet we do not provide adequate sexual education in schools? Ironically, our very understandings of how sex should look and should feel are in conflict with the reality.

Because I’m almost certain the reality is not 10 minutes of sweat and pleasure but rather one awkward encounter: a box of flavoured durex and lucky raspberry is first choice ‘to keep the relationship interesting babe’.

“Don’t cry, I’m sorry to have deceived you so much, but that’s how life is,” says Humbert. The young Lo has been manipulated into believing her worth is based on her sex appeal, and that must change. This is something that so many women have heard before, whether it is from bosses, co-workers, even people we might regard as friends. The paradox of the 21st century Lolita is that she is too young to have sex, but never too young to wear it.

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EYES ON THE PRIZE ?

IS ISIS THAT IMPORTANT? WORDS || HARRISON HOWARD

W

hether a diplomat, or your average reader of the Herald’s international column, most would agree that peace and security is the ultimate prize of diplomacy.

Most would also agree that we live in uniquely dangerous times, threatened by nuclear proliferation, conventional state-state war and nonstate actors such as ISIS. We were reminded of this on 14 January 2016 when Jakarta was rocked by an ISIS attack that left eight dead. Like other terror attacks, it dominated news cycles.

It’s no surprise the Pew Research Centre revealed that 69 per cent of Australians regard ISIS as Australia’s greatest threat – a view shared

by Australian policy-makers, who in 2015 devoted an additional $1.2 billion to counter-terrorism.

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Terrorism is at the fore of Australian thinking on security – to the neglect of other key security issues.

The week of the Jakarta attacks exemplifies the salience given to terrorism - other significant events in international security were taking place, garnering nowhere near the same attention as the ISIS attack.

On the Sunday following Jakarta, the US lifted decade-long sanctions imposed on Iran; in exchange, Iran promised to halt the development of its nuclear weapons program. By Monday, the US reimposed limited sanctions in response to Iranian ballistic missile tests.

The tests, statements by senior Iranian officials, and the fact that Iran has repeatedly violated its international obligations, including

six UN Security Council resolutions – speaks of ongoing Iranian nuclear ambitions.

Any country armed with nuclear weapons is concerning, but the prospect of a nuclear Iran is terrifying when considering the sectarian-motivated tensions that Iran is embroiled in with Egypt, Turkey and Saudi Arabia – the latter having recently broken off diplomatic ties with Iran.

The introduction of Iranian nuclear weapons into tensions already enflamed by the Syrian Civil War, will inevitably compel nations like Saudi Arabia to pursue their own nuclear programs.

On the same day as the Jakarta attacks, the Japanese Navy announced it would begin ‘maritime policing’ measures to challenge Chinese expansion in the South-China Sea. The announcement comes amidst ongoing disputes between China and its neighbours, with China claiming the South-China Sea as its own territorial waters.

The dispute has reached a climax.

Throughout 2015 China constructed seven artificial islands throughout the disputed territory, capable of military application as ‘stationary

aircraft carriers’. Coupled with growing tides of nationalism throughout the region and burgeoning Japanese and Chinese naval programs (which could digress into an arms race) the dispute has the potential to morph into the same preconditions that gave rise to World War One. The situation becomes even more complex when considering the role of the US in Asia – China is an emergent superpower, the US an established one. In a recent study by Harvard it was found that in 15 historical interactions between emergent and established powers, 10 ended in war.

Make no mistake, ISIS - terrorism in general - is a hugely serious threat to international security. But so is nuclear proliferation, which is no less potent than it was during the scares of the Cold War. Conventional warfare, mixed with modern weaponry, has the potential to inflict casualties on an unfathomable scale.

There is a trend amongst Australians and their policy-makers to give overwhelming salience to terrorism, neglecting other security issues that desperately require attention. When we give salience to one issue we lose strategic perspective, we take our eyes off the prize and international security ultimately suffers.

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DIPPING IN WITH JIHAD DIB WORDS || YEHUDA AHARON

I

’m off to see Jihad Dib, the state representative for Lakemba and I’m wondering if he will remember me. We met about six months ago at an interfaith harmony walk. Today, faint recognition rolls over his face as he asks how to pronounce my name. He looks smart and is dressed in a black suit with an off-red tie.

He looks like a politician but I hope he will be more interesting than one.

Walking down from his office it is immediately apparent that he is a celebrity around here.

A mother takes a moment to stop screaming at her kid in the mall to smile and the waitresses at the cafe all know him. Courtesy of his popularity, we get a ‘special table’ that looks just like all the rest and I place my phone on the table to press record.

All of this is to be expected from an MP but Dib has a particular charm with the people around him – he is from them and has lived his life alongside them. He arrived from Lebanon as a child and moved around a fair bit with his parents working odd jobs. Life was a struggle, “the money just wasn’t there. Dad worked at a place called Containers Limited which used to make aerosol cans and containers. Mum used to work in a factory as well.”

After university, he went to teach at Ulladulla. There he learnt to surf and was also acutely aware of the fact that not many people had the name Jihad. He still loved it but Dib grew to miss the gritty suburbs he knew as home, as family. He applied to be the principal at Punchbowl Boys High, a bold move. The school had one of the worst reputations in the state. There was a seven-foot barbed wire fence that surrounded the school, and drugs and gang violence had taken over. Despite this, he tells me

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when he looks back it is through “rose tinted glasses”. I am shocked. I have read about those days and a favourite writer of mine, Michael Mohammed Ahmad, recently composed a short radio play about his time there. It was filled with beatings, gangs and pure chaos. The difficulty of Dib’s time there gave the foundation to a recent SBS miniseries called The Principal. At the time he was appointed, he was the youngest principal in the state.

“What I loved the most about school was the relationships that were built – actually building the relationships with the kids, teachers and the community. I loved the emotional stuff.

It was an emotionally broken place and when you don’t have a love for a place you don’t care about it and that was the feel that I got when I walked in there. The mentality was that it was not worth it. Everyone else had tried, what was I going to do?”

“I used to have parents ask me, ‘Mr Dib, can you help my son get into a better school?’ That would break my heart. I mean why take him out to a different school. We want him here, let’s make this the better school and that took a while.”

“Everyone sees the success story but it took some real tears and some tough decisions.” It was his personal belief in the kids, day in day out, that gave many kids the faith that they needed to feel in themselves. Regardless of who the kids were or who they associated with, they became his family, their own family. “Why is that a family? Because families do stuff together. Families look out for one and other. When somebody is struggling they pick them up. When someone is doing well we cel-

ebrate. We had funerals too. Kids can die, family members can die, but we did it all together.”

I ask Dib about his decision to go into politics. “Every time I get asked, my answer is a little different.” He tells me he has been asked this a million times but is not trying to push it off. “It sounds so cliché, but I made a difference to the community in my school. I lived it and now I want to take that to another level.”

He shares with me a story about a local lady living in public housing. She calls regularly and “It may not be a major thing for somebody else but that’s the world for her and she knows that every time she rings our office we will fight for it to be fixed. I become her voice.”

“The government talks about looking out for the most vulnerable. I’m saying we have some of the most vulnerable here yet we can never get the funding. People here will say, why aren’t we treated the same, why are we always getting the leftovers? We’re not here to whinge and say woe be me. All we want is the same.

We know what we need. Let’s put them in.

One of the things I have said is ‘invest in people because we will be paying a lot more if we need to pick up a broken society’.”

“I’m not interested in saying it’s OK as it is, because it isn’t. It’s not OK. And I don’t want us to have anything more than everybody else. But I damn well will fight for it to be the same.”

Despite this, the community in and around Lakemba is one of the most vibrant communities in Sydney. It has a flair to it. This stems from their cohesion. Here, there is no shortage of people who give, and they do it in a voluntary sense, out of their own pocket. For example, the Lakemba Community Services Centre is funded to an extent, but the reality is that their output is much greater than their funding. People just donate extra time and if they don’t have money it’ll be food or something else.

cause they know what it’s like to need that help, or they are close to somebody who does. Nothing comes easy. I guarantee it that if you went to Lakemba and you went to one of the shops and they knew you were down on your luck - they’d feed ya. They’d also know if you’re full of bull crap. They’ll work it out. But they’ll feed ya and look after you. And give you a job if there is one floating around.“ “Come down to Lakemba for Iftar, the Ramadan feast and you will see the place buzzing but amongst all that, the mosque hosts something every night down by the car park. It’s for people who don’t have family or somewhere to go.

Much of that is donated by families. If they are cooking they just cook extra, they assist where they can.”

“People open their homes up to others, to people of other faiths to people of no faiths.”

This doesn’t surprise me – charity is a pillar of Islam, it is mandated by law. But he tells me that it is everywhere, the people strive to help each other. They are more tolerant of each other than people are in other communities because they all live together. And of course anybody can come to Iftar – “who cares? It’s food!”

“It cops a really bad rap and it’s unfair and yet so resilient. I love it. There is no airs and graces here – and they’re happy. That’s what you get – it’s a warts and all community. We have our problems but there is a real passion in the place.” All he asks is that people come and look at the place the way he does – as it really is, with the glass half full.

The time is up and we are only half-way done but he has to go prepare himself for Australia Day celebrations despite the fact that he is a republican and makes it known to me that he thinks we should have it on a different day. “We are a great nation but we need some serious national healing.” A new day, he tells me, would be more inclusive and incorporate “those first Australians fifty thousand years ago all the way to the ones who will become citizens tomorrow.”

“What I love is the reason they do that, it’s be-

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IN A WORLD AT HALF VOLUME, PERSONAL VILLAINS SCREAM THE LOUDEST WORDS || CHARBEL ZADA

A

s someone who is hearing impaired, my world is at half volume and at half volume, words in a conversation tend to dip in and out of my comprehension.

Everybody has a story and for me as a child, my hearing impairment is frequently the villain. It touches upon everything I do and say in often-subtle ways. For me, my impairment often left me socially isolated for obvious reasons – communication. Nobody likes to repeat what they say and I’m frequently asking people to repeat themselves – something that has proven to be an especially torturous brand of déjà vu for me. Though, I would later deliberately use this to drive those I disliked into repeating themselves to the point of frustration.

disability. Disabilities and impairments can be difficult to live with but the beauty of us as human beings is that we are capable of adapting and persevering. I have friends who are blind and dyslexic writing novels.

For some, this story will be familiar and for others it won’t be. For my able bodied peers, there is a lesson to be learned from this – with every opportunity afforded to you, it becomes all too easy for you to fail to empathize with those who aren’t. Next time in class, take a look at your peers. I guarantee you, someone in your class struggles with a disability or impairment.

Someone in your class struggles one way or another to learn and sometimes it is obvious but sometimes it is not. Ask yourAs all villains do, my hearing impairment self how you can help. What can you do threw up some challenges. It fed my social as a person with privileges to help others anxiety (for my anxiety it was an all you can who are not as fortunate? We as a human eat buffet.) But like every encounter with a race cannot improve if we don’t lift each villain, you end up coming out of it either other up. for better or for worse. As an adult, I think my hearing impairment and I are more As for me, there is no deus ex machilike molecules. Like molecules, we impact na in my story – my hearing impairment upon each other, and in doing so, we al- is a lifelong condition, one with which I ter ourselves in the process. For me, I was will grapple with and handle in different at a distinct disadvantage in comparison to ways as I enter different stages of my my able bodied peers and to equal them, I life. I am proud to be one of the many had to work harder. It instilled a huge work success stories. However, as my disabled ethic, one that has seen me achieve a lot of and impaired peers would know, not all different things. It’s made me a kinder and disabilities and impairments are easy to a more empathetic person. These are now cope with. One of the greatest tragedies traits I am proud to be known for. is that we are not all success stories. But, at the risk of ending on a saccharine note The second villain of this story is the lack to my peers and my able-bodied peers, I of empathy. You would be hard pressed to just want to say – despite whatever cards find someone with disabilities and impair- life deals you, you can still use them to ments who would say all they are is their win the game.

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CREATIVE

WHERE IS WILLIE? WORDS || O. SOSWETI He said he was coming home at five and it is already eight thirty. Where is he? Esther is boiling water for the spaghetti, one hand grasping the wooden spoon, the other resting on her hip. From the kitchen window she can see into Jo’s kitchen and is dismayed to discover that she is making pasta, too. Is this what we’ve resorted to? All the cookbooks and modern appliances, just to prepare the same banal meal as your next-door neighbour?

She wipes the steam from her forehead then drains the pasta. The clock on the oven reads 8:44pm.

Maddie is setting the table, laying down forks and spoons while doing something on her iPhone.

Esther watches as her daughter circumnavigates the island bench, then the rotating stools, the broom, and then opens the cupboard to pull out four plates, all without moving her eyes from the screen.

“Only set three spots,” Esther says.

“Dad’s not coming?”

Esther holds the pasta over the sink, allowing it to drain and shakes her head. “Who knows anymore?”

The steam fogs up her glasses and for several moments she cannot see anything through the mist.

Maddie prances through the kitchen and avoids running into anything until she stumbles on the washing basket beside the stairs and topples over it, the salad bowl she was holding does a spectacular somersault before hitting the ground and splaying in a mess of shattered ceramic, legumes, and rocket.

“That was my favourite bowl,” Esther says coldly.

“I’ll pay for it.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I’ll go to the store tomorrow and buy it with my money.”

“The point is I can’t have nice things without you guys ruining them.”

“Can you define ‘you guys’?”

“Just set the table, Madeline, or you’ll be voted off the island. And tell Heath it’s dinner time.”

Heath is out on the street, cradling his knees, sitting in the gutter, smoking a joint between fingers

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spread like scissors. He picks up a fat black marker and thrusts the tip onto a blank notepad and starts to draw another spiral. Round and round the pen goes, gyrating unevenly. When he finishes, he allows a sob to escape his lips, then starts another spiral, leaving its eye blank, as whiteness. He basically ate nothing at dinner, much to Esther’s dismay, but even now he is not hungry.

It is probably because he has been eating so much of that codeine and melatonin the doctor prescribes, but even he knows the dose is so low, so sham-worthy, that the doctor is either doubting his chronic insomnia or hoping that a shove toward placebo is the cure.

So he had first started smoking marijuana because it helped him fall asleep but now it seems to do the opposite: he will smoke a joint then feel a rush of energy and want nothing else but to be mindlessly entertained. He will eat maybe four bowls of cereal every night. He will stay awake until at least 3am.

He will watch comedians on YouTube or read a book, soaking in the pace of words and language with a new, amnesiac appreciation.

He cries softly as the marker goes around and around and around.

A Volkswagen pulls into the street and even before the streetlamp glints off it he knows it is his father. Willie parks the car and gets out, adjusting his shirt by tucking it into his trousers.

Heath can’t stand how fat Willie has become. He barely fits into those shirts anymore. No wonder he’s close to losing that job. Who wants to buy nice looking shirts from a fat, middle-aged man? These fears plague Heath’s mind. That he will mimic his father, fat and unhappy, realising in the closing years of his working life that he is in fact not very good at what he does. My god, Heath thinks, Look how fat he is now. He doesn’t understand how; Esther cooks vegan meals at home. It must be all the beer. He must drink late at night after mum sends him downstairs. They don’t sleep together. She says it’s because he snores (and he does) but the way

her emerald eyes drift unconsciously to the right gives her away; she is lying. There is something else wrong, something unspoken. Willie never used to come home this late, not until the elusive ‘they’ threatened to fire him.

Willie yanks the joint from Heath’s hands.

“Not this shit again,” he says.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, just get inside.”

Willie tosses it into the gutter, amongst autumn leaves, without stepping on it. Heath wipes his eyes and trails behind his father, who is wheezing and clearing his throat.

“Your sinuses still giving you hell?” he asks.

Willie stops halfway to the front door and turns.

“Don’t pretend you’re off the hook.” And then, “Listen, Heath, you know I don’t have a problem with marijuana. I mean, like, physiologically. But you have to admit, if it causes you to sit out on the street almost every night and makes you cry, and you can’t pinpoint exactly why you are crying – you’ve gotta see my issue with it, right?”

“Not really,” Heath says defensively. “That happens all the time to people who drink alcohol.”

He is restlessly clicking a lighter in his right hand.

“Besides,” he says, “What really has me worried is where you’re going all the time.”

“That’s not your business,” Willie says.

“Don’t do this to me, of course it is. Are you sleeping with other women, is that it?”

Willie looks incensed, face flushing florid. Until he puts a gentle hand on his son.

“I would never do that to her, never have, never could.” Then he winks at Heath. “I’m not going to tell her about the whole marijuana business, just get inside and have a shower and put some drops in your eyes. It would kill her to find out.”

10:10pm on the oven clock when Willie walks through the front door. He experiences the equal mix of terror and peace, like a child learning to float on their back, as he goes to kiss Esther, who only presents a cheek, her eyes descending to the vacant spaces of the room, and after monologuing tiredly about how many designer shirts he managed to sell today – “Paisleys and organic cotton is the winning combo right now, love” – he pulls a beer from the fridge and sips at it frequently and pensively, as if underlining their unspoken conflict.

“You were supposed to be home for dinner,” Es-

ther says, now sitting at the windowsill and directing smoke outside of it, tapping the ash onto the garden bed below, ignoring the almost perceptible tsk-tsk of Jo who, incredibly, is still working away in the kitchen, sweeping now.

“I’m sorry, love,” he says.

Esther tosses the cigarette out of the window without extinguishing it. “No you’re not,” she says.

“I am,” he says. He looks at his wife. “I am.”

He notices the dustpan and broom leaning against the stairs, the pan filled up with broken ceramic and salad.

“What happened?” He asks.

Esther huffs and then walks upstairs, leaving Willie alone.

When Willie wakes up on the sofa he fumbles on the ground for his glasses then puts them on and walks out to the kitchen and makes a bowl of cereal.

The clock on the oven reads 3:54am. He scoops the last grains from his bowl then slurps the milk. He is still starving. Opening the fridge he already knows what to expect: a scatter of eggplant, okra, the pasta from last night’s dinner, three day old couscous. He creeps quietly to the sideboard and opens up the drawer, pulling out his car keys. He makes sure to exit through the back door.

Twenty minutes later and he is sitting in a Korean restaurant that never closes. There are three other customers in the restaurant and they look like chefs who have clocked off for the day. The waiter arrives and chats to him. He cracks a joke about how boring Willie is, ordering the same meal twice in one day. Once the waiter leaves he thinks about why he keeps this secret from his wife. A platter of beef arrives on a hot plate. It is sizzling. He mixes it together and eats it with a spoon, leaving the chopsticks inside their paper wrapping. This is the second time he’s felt alive all day. Residue from his broken sinuses drip down the back of his throat, interfering with the spicy flavours. Willie hasn’t smelt anything properly for years.

His eyes water as he munches on chilli; a garbage truck trundles by, ruining the pre-dawn quiet, it will be day soon, he should tell his wife the truth (it is probably better than what she fears), he should help his son, speak to his daughter, he should go home, he should fix all this, he should –

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LIGHTS OUT WORDS || NIKITA JONES

SShe’ll do it, she really will. He watches her from across the room and she looks at him from under her eyelashes like she practised in the mirror. They come together and she grins while she strikes the match.

They love like children, brutal and heedless.

She wants to scream into his face and crawl into his chest and put her fingers in his eyes and she doesn’t know what to do with the feeling so she lies beside him on the bed. “I don’t know what to do with it”. She says it out loud because they’re drowning anyway so who cares.

He says “I know.” She assumes he’s lying but he’s gritting his teeth against the need to squeeze the life from her body.

“Jesus, I could kill you” she says like she plucked it from his head and instead of crying he says, “Fine, I’ll get the lights” and they laugh at nothing like they do.

He loves her for the way she can’t stand the dark, the way her fingers run over light switches that are already turned on.

“I think I love you” he says when the lights go out because he can’t say it to her face, because the words are so tiny. She holds him a little too tight tonight, trying to burrow her way in. *** He grits his teeth against the need to scream because every single fucking light in the house is turned on. He’s not about to yell about the power bill he’s not, because that would make him his father and he’s just not 40

ready to wear white tennis shoes.

He walks into their room already burning up with it and she feels him coming with every revolted twist in her stomach. She wants to rip the skin from his bones and sink her teeth into his mouth. “What” she bites because she needs something to claw at.

“Have you made dinner?”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

He storms through to the kitchen.

“I might kill him” she says to the empty room. She thinks the words should shock her but they don’t. She closes her mouth against a scream about nothing.

He’s in the kitchen being rather unfair to the groceries. She thinks about letting it go but she loves to strike the first match.

“No need to take it out on the tomatoes.”

No answer. He’s not fighting fair.

“Excuse me, since when am I responsible for your dinner?”

It catches. “Jesus Christ Jessica, you know–” he puts out the match and places the rest of his sentence in the freezer with the raw meat.

He stares at it until his nose gets cold.

“I think I hate you” he says to the meat because he can’t say it to her face, because the words are so tiny.

ARM HAIRS WORDS || ANGUS DALTON Is sixteen sweet?

It is, for a second. Then the sprite sugar-bubbles burst and vodka shoves its hot tongue into your mouth.

Before you’ve finished biting down and trying to hold the retches back inflicted by that first brave gulp, your friend is pouring another, half half, and knocks it back without a wince.

And then you lose him.

You wander through clumps of people sprawled on couches and on tabletops as smoke winds in and out of each other’s noses and mouths, ash collecting between your teeth and sucking your throat dry.

You find him by the pool and someone has put a cigarette between his lips, his first fag, and you know he wouldn’t want it sober so just as a girl leans over and flicks it alight, you walk over and swat it from his face.

You’re tasting blood before it’s hit the floor.

The crumpled cigarette shoots like a meteor and goes out with a hiss in a chlorinated puddle.

He’s smacked you with the back of his hand and his glare makes you sick, so you slink away, floating from group to group and sucking on things that burn your mouth in differ-

ent ways.

The crowd is fraying; people are slipping out in pairs and away onto the street, so you go upstairs to the bed that you’ve bagsed and lock the door behind you.

Your eyes are closed but you’re dizzy and moving as if lying on water, sliding up and off the backs of waves before they crash. You lie this way until exhaustion starts to fill you up with rocks, one by one, and you’re on the edge of sinking into sleep when someone bursts the door open, the screws from the latch flying across the room and clinking against the window.

He crashes onto the bed next to you. He’s out. You stare at his face and it’s dark. Your arm hairs are touching and he is impossibly warm. His sleeping breath skids across your face and every time, you shiver.

You lie there all night imagining what would happen if he woke. Would he spring away or move closer?

Soft light trickles in through the window and just before you creep away you realise sixteen is not the start of sweet, but the end. The end of rainbow tongues and best-friend pacts and caramel melting between fingers, and the start of sneaking out of bedrooms alone with a sour film resting in your mouth after a sleepless night spent stuck between what could happen,

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GOT SOMETHING TO CONTRIBUTE ?

SEND IT OUR WAY AT GRAPESHOT@MQ.EDU.AU submissions for ISSUE 2: DIY close 26 FEBRUARY 2016

REPEAT OFFENDERS

WORDS || PHILLIP LEASON I’m unhappy because I’ve eaten badly and I’m going to eat badly because I’m unhappy. I think we’ve all broken our resolutions to eat better in 2016 and I know I am definitely comfort eating through the shame of falling off the ‘newyear-new-me’ bandwagon. Either way, here are a few confectionary cafés you can count on for your next guilty fix. If you’re going to do something wrong, do it right.

THE SWEET SPOT 2 Allen St, Waterloo Mon-Fri: 7am-3.30pm, Sat-Sun: 8am-3.30pm The red brick interior and rustic furniture here nicely match the vintage industrial vibes of the Alexandria area. The array of ‘sometimes foods’ on offer is overwhelming. You can chose from single serves of classics like lemon meringue, or more exotic items for those amongst us who don’t have anxieties about ordering food with a lengthy foreign name. The coffee is great too, but the atmosphere gets a little fractured by the traffic on Botany Road.

3.5/5

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THE CUPCAKE BAKERY 320B George St, Sydney CBD Mon- Fri 7.30am - 6pm, Sat 10am - 5pm, Sun 11am - 5pm Buying into a franchise might feel a little #conformist, but nobody will judge you for a visit here because the window looks so darn irresistible. There’s an overwhelming selection of flavours so don’t overthink it, go with your gut and you won’t be disappointed. The icing is a little too sugary, but the sponge on these cupcakes is superbly moist. Yes, superbly moist.

It’s relatively well-priced too, but be warned, close to half of your cupcake will stick to the paper and you’ll have to suck it off like a weirdo to get your money’s worth.

3.5/5

FAITH CHOCOLATE COMPANY 25 Portsmouth Rd, Erina Tues - Sun 9am - 5pm, Mon - Closed A quaint mudbrick building in the fragrant bushland just behind the Erina Fair mall, it’s worth a visit just for the atmosphere. Their cakes are all made with natural sweeteners like coconut nectar instead of processed sugars and nuts instead of dairy fats - so it’s food-fad friendly, protein-packed and guilt free. If that doesn’t do it for you or you’re on a budget you can just go to town on samples of their extensive range of intriguing and absurdly delicious organic chocolates. It’s all house made and the quirky chocolatier is great for a chat. To make things better, Faith Chocolate Company adjoins Distillery Botanica, so you can go and get buzzed on boutique spirit samples when you’re done. Booyakasha!

4.5/5

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FILM LOOKING FOR GRACE REVIEW || CAMERON COLWELL Like an unhinged love-child of Gone Girl and Puberty Blues, Looking for Grace delivers a slow-burn emotional punch that, while perhaps prosaic on the surface, hints at worlds below the facades of its familiar, everyday characters. The film starts with a gorgeously shot sequence featuring Grace (Odessa Young) and her friend, Sappho (Kenya Young), alternating between the boredom and thrill of a long-distance bus ride through the Western Australian outback. Soon enough, the handsome but sleazy Jamie (Harry Richardson) boards the bus, immediately setting his eyes on Grace.

Within the next set of scenes, all centred on Grace, we come to know each of these characters, despite an almost total lack of dialogue. Director Sophie Brooks has a fine command of subtlety, demonstrating Grace’s endearing mix of teen awkwardness and recklessness, Sappho’s jealous priggishness, and the inexperienced seduction of Jamie through a moreor-less anal adherence to the rule of ‘Show, Don’t Tell.’

The film follows a number of character’s perspectives, each with their unique tone. At first glance, Looking For Grace may seem to be a bog-standard checklist of Australian indie yawn-fest cliches with a neat post-modern spin: a bleak, ‘arty’ film about family relationships featuring shots of a waifish protagonist wandering silhouetted in a majestic outback.

However the film unfurls to transcend its trappings with the subtle insights we gain as we are shown the

46

lives of people connected to the titular character.

The most striking thing is the lack of emotion around Grace’s escape. Small talk is exchanged about whether her disappearance is occasion to bring out the good china, a tactless receptionist brightly lists a litany of horrible fates which may have befallen the girl to her mother, and Grace’s gormless father wonders aloud why the note did not include his name. While these scenes individually come across as a series of lightly comedic and frustratingly awkward vignettes, they, along with the backdrop of a sterile rendition of suburban Australia, amount to a dark satire of modern suburban blandness. No wonder, we think, by the end, Grace would choose the earthy emptiness of the wilderness over that of the kind filled with the genteel chaise lounges and dull-eyed family portraits of her home.

Brooks makes her work stand out by showing monotony with compassion rather than contempt. Come the film’s conclusion I wanted to know more of these characters, and, because of the detail, had a series of realisations about them in the time it took me to write this review.

However, it has to be said: Grace has much more in common with an Anton Chekhov short story than an action blockbuster. At times I yearned for the film to make something, anything, explicit, and felt myself beginning to be bored. Ultimately the film delivers on the ambition its structure promises, and I am keen for my next viewing.

4/5

BOOKS THE RAP YEAR BOOK SHEA SERRANO

REVIEW || ADRIAN NGUYEN What’s one way of getting a book to become a New York Times Best Seller? Getting everyone who follows you on social media to aggressively buy it, of course.

That’s what Shea Serrano, a former writer for the defunct website Grantland did with his latest publication, The Rap Year Book. His 50 000 Twitter followers swarmed to buy it and it’s sold over one million copies so far.

The Rap Year Book takes you through rap’s history with witty humour and down-to-earth insights. Serrano deconstructs and discusses the most important rap song of each year, starting from 1979 (Rapper’s Delight by The Sugarhill Gang) and ending in 2014 (Lifestyle by Young Thug and Rich Homie Quan). Note: it’s not about the best song or the author’s favourite of each year, it’s the most important song. Each song’s chapter presents its importance through its historical context, its influence on the artist and the genre of hip hop. The songs are examined on a lyrical basis and their rich emotions are explored, whether they be introspective, annihilating or hopeful. Closing out each chapter, Arturo Torres’ textural illustration features style maps that visually reinforce its core information. The choices for each year are often surprising until supported by Serrano’s explanations.

Every song listed also has a blurb by fellow guest music writers, rebutting each entry with what they think is the most important song of that year. Despite their brevity, it still feels as though you’re involved in a stimulating discussion. Like Serrano, these writers expound their knowledge of rap through erudite personas. Case in point: Tom Breihan, Senior Editor of Stereogum counters 2009’s number one, Drake’s Best I Ever Had, with the Gucci Mane’s Lemonade, arguing the intuition he has on that track is of much higher value than Drake.

Serrano’s savvy sharpness makes The Rap Year Book a fun read and is an insightful look into the most significant genre of music to emerge from the twentieth century.

5/5

THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN PAULA HAWKINS

REVIEW || ELOISE GOODMAN Paula Hawkins’ first thriller is enticing from the very first page. It continues to hold you in its tight grip of intrigue throughout. Constant anticipation will have you desperate to solve the mystery, but a little scared to as well.

The Girl on the Train follows Rachel, who watches the same gloriously happy couple in their backyard each day from her train to work when it stops at a particular signal. When the girl she watches suddenly goes missing, Rachel’s mundane world is turned on its head. A certain

banality and an ensemble of refreshingly-flawed characters makes this story feel close to reality, and is that bit more thrilling.

Hawkins plays with perspective throughout the book, and throws the reader to different points in time in the narrative between three different women. Each woman’s perspective adds a new layer to the mystery and wonderfully helps build tension.

The Girl on the Train will turn you into a quasidetective as, page by page, new possible theories emerge.

Every detail has been meticulously planned and withheld until the absolute moment you couldn’t stand it anymore.

This book will always be in your hands until you figure out that next piece of the puzzle.

4/5

THE CROSSING MICHAEL CONNELLY

REVIEW || SARAH SELIG I didn’t Google ‘Michael Connelly’ to check reviews or read a synopsis before starting The Crossing, so I was pleasantly surprised when I found myself hooked by the first chapter. I investigated this Connelly guy to see if anyone else knew he was a talented crime fiction novelist, and it turns out yes, they do. Connelly is a bestselling author who has sold more than 60 million books worldwide. The Crossing is the highly anticipated twentieth instalment in the Bosch series, but don’t worry, you don’t have to have read his books in order.

The story follows LAPD retiree Harry Bosch as he joins forces with a defence attorney to defend Mr Foster, a man charged for murder who fiercely claims his innocence.

Connelly challenges the reader to trust in a seeminglyreliable legal system or in the highly infectious psyche of an ex-cop convinced he is defending a man falsely accused of break and enter, rape, and murder.

The tangled story is told from two perspectives: from Bosch with his fierce regard for justice, and the other, writings from the plagued thoughts of two guilty killers.

Connelly maintains momentum in his writing as one murder leads to seven more in an attempt to cover tracks and confuse evidence.

The novel explores themes of bureaucracy, corruption and the legal system, but a law degree isn’t required to digest Connelly’s wealth of knowledge surrounding judicial procedures. Connelly’s style is simple but the storyline is compelling. If you enjoy crime thrillers or mysteries of corruption and the law then The Crossing is a must.

4/5

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MUSIC

SAVAGES

‘ADORE LIFE’ (SINGLE) REVIEW || PHILLIP LEASON

“If you don’t love me don’t love anybody.” UK band Savages’ sophomore album opens with a wall of frenetic noise, and singer Jenny Beth’s manic demand sets the tone for the rest of Adore Life and its non-traditional exploration of love.

Trembling passion and bass lines, white-noise guitar, angular riffs, aggressive drumming, and Beth’s powerful vocals embling passion and disdain, Savages craftchilling soundscapes and an unmistakably classic postpunk sound. This time open choruses around pop chord progressions provide relief from the chilling tension on the rest of the album.

It feels gauche to acknowledge the feminist and non-binary content on the album, but it’s unmistakably present, and Adore Life brings questions surrounding gender fluidity and sexual power play under their noisy microscope.

Adore Life isn’t as confronting as their debut, Silence Yourself, which means it’s inevitably less outstanding. On the flip side this means it’s considerably more accessible, and makes for an easier entry point to their music, and as an all-female band in the male-dominated rock scene, it’s refreshing to hear this sort of aggression coming form the other side. These ladies are kicking arse.

4/5

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KANYE WEST ‘REAL FRIENDS’ FEATURING TY DOLLA SIGN (SINGLE) REVIEW || NICK WASILIEV

Kanye West is a talented guy, there’s no denying that, and his mainstream success in the 2000s shows that: ‘Late Registration’, ‘College Dropout’, ‘Graduation’.

However recently, particularly with his latest album ‘Yeezus,’ I’ve found myself distracted by his shameless egotism, which casts a shadow on his musical talent.

Real Friends exhibits a side of Kanye we haven’t seen in a LONG time – the vulnerable side. It’s a refreshingly welcome respite from his self-aggrandisement and impatience in French-ass restaurants (hurry up with those damn croissants!). Real Friends sees Kanye delve into the nature of his fame and how it has led to him neglecting, and being neglected by, family and friends, over a swirling background of eerie pianos and kickdrum beats.

In short, this is an intoxicatingly sad song, and something I hope sets the tone for his new upcoming album ‘Waves’ (formerly ‘SWISH’, formerly ‘So Help Me God’). It’s a pleasant reminder that underneath the public meltdowns and enormous ego, Kanye still has substance, and it gives me hope that this time the music will take centre stage.

4/5

GAMES

STAR WARS: BATTLEFRONT FOR PC, PS4, XBOX ONE, PS3, XBOX 360 REVIEW || JAKE JACKSON

Star Wars: Battlefront was the game all fans of the galaxy far, far away waited for with utmost patience. After the initial stages of play it was clear how much effort had been put into the most recent addition to the Star Wars gaming saga. Maps like Endor and Hoth demonstrated just how captivating next generation visuals could be, whilst the battles between X-Wings and tie-Fighters added the sensory addition of smooth sound to the game’s cache.

Despite these certainties, it’s likely you’ll soon find yourself asking: Why have I stopped playing it? Well, simply put, what you’ve purchased was a fifth of a game at the price of a whole one. This unfavourable quality is then exacerbated by the downloadable content of the following editions, set to be released for the same amount you paid originally. Consequently, after you’ve won a few matches of fighter squadron, destroyed the rebels base over and over in walker assault, annihilated Luke Skywalker with blaster fire, you’ll call it a day. By then you may have already decided you should have just been satisfied with your Star Wars fix from the Episode VII film and gotten your gaming fix from Call of Duty (you can be sure you’ll enjoy that because it’s almost identical to the last one).

Whilst an elaborate conspiracy has the potential to emerge from the game’s apparent commercial interests, the overall gaming experience will satisfy any Star Wars fan.

3/5

FALLOUT 4

FOR PC, XBOX ONE, PS4 REVIEW || SAED BATSHON

Fallout 4 is a post-apocalyptic action RPG made by Bethesda, a company that knows how to make game worlds that tell a story. You can build your own settlement, fight mutants, join a technology-obsessed cult, and experience so many other quests in the massive world of Boston. The main story revolves around a vault dweller who has spent the last 200 years cryogenically trapped in a vault being suddenly unfrozen, and looking for their son who is lost in the middle of this crazy new society. I’ve spent so many hours exploring post-apocalyptic Boston, travelling with several companions that help flesh out the world. My favourite is Strong, a super mutant that wants to become human by drinking the ‘milk of human kindness’. The combat in the game is terrific, featuring the snappy mechanics of a first person shooter with the turn based meticulousness and deep customisation options of a classic RPG.

In terms of visuals, Fallout 4 is a beaut to look at, and it’s quite impressive that it managed to look this good with this much content. Boston is a unique location, from raiderfilled buildings to bloatfly infested swamps, that looks great up close and amazing from a distance. In terms of negatives, I was bothered by the occasional glitch, but that’s about it.

Overall ,Fallout 4 is one of the most complete and fun gaming experiences you will have, and I guarantee you will enjoy it.

4.5/5

FAR CRY PRIMAL FOR PC, XBOX ONE, PS4 REVIEW || SAED BASTSHON

Far Cry 4, an open world shooter from Ubisoft, was one of my favourite games of 2014. I really enjoyed exploring, hunting and shooting in a beautiful open world. Recently, I had a chance to play the expansion, Far Cry Primal at a special IGN event, and came away fairly impressed.

Far Cry Primal is set in prehistoric times and tells the story of warring caveman factions. Much like Far Cry 3’s expansion, Blood Dragon, Primal is obviously a re-skinned version of the main game. It has all the same animations, the same engine, and the same basic tenets of hunting, exploring and capturing outposts, with various caveman flourishes (you trigger a horn instead of an alarm when enemies spot you, and spot enemies with a pet owl instead of a sniper scope).

The main draw of this game is the expansion of the tribal element already in previous Far Cry games, with a larger focus on ancient weapons and animal allies. Far Cry 4 at times seemed cluttered with so many story elements to keep track of, and so for me Primal doesn’t feel like a stripped down version, but a purer version of the original game. You’re no longer Chad, the confused American tourist who lands on the island, picks up a bow-and-arrow kills eight guys and two wolves.

Instead, you’re a hunter, this is your life, and you’ve mastered the beasts (and you don’t make the same groan soundbite every time you skin an animal like in previous games). In terms of allies, the selection seems very impressive, with up to 15 animals to choose from. In the demo I had access to an owl to scout enemies, a white wolf, a jaguar and a bear for my ground allies. The combat is very similar to Far Cry 4, with animals giving me a nice tactical advantage and the lack of guns encouraging my stealth kills.

Overall I enjoyed my time with the Far Cry Primal preview, and I would definitely recommend people who enjoyed Far Cry 4, or any open world game to check this out.

4/5

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HOROSCOPES WORDS || VANESSA CAPITO

ARIES

Reminiscing about your sixteenth birthday? I bet you are now. Also thinking about all those episodes of My Super Sweet 16 you loved to watch? Okay, maybe not, but you should.

TAURUS

There was an international tennis-fixing scandal recently, but don’t worry about that; you’re not fixed. Channel your inner caterpillar, break free, but say no to the no-no substances.

GEMINI

You might be lacking some gems in your life right now, and you could steal some, but I don’t recommend that at all. Instead, find a cat with green eyes and appreciate it.

CANCER

Are all your friends getting engaged? Are they already married? Are they having babies? Is it freaking you out? Is this too many questions? Well if they are, it’s okay to freak out.

LEO

You go zero to one hundred real quick, but still not as fast as Drake so don’t get too ahead of yourself, it’s embarrassing. Remember to keep your eyes on the prize which is either cake or beer.

VIRGO

Feeling vivacious? Wanna be carefree?! Well you can be you cute thang if you keep up these positive vibes. Whip out the essential oils and just do you for once. Viva la Virgo!

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LIBRA

If you’re sad because uni is back, join the club, or a club. But just don’t buy a club and do something violent because that is seriously not cool dude.

You’re way out of the club if you do.

SCORPIO

Don’t like taking the stairs? Neither do I, so I fully support you in taking the lift. Just don’t press all the buttons on the way up, because you’ll only end up ruining the best damn ride of the day.

SAGITTARIUS

Whether you’re into Justin Bieber or not, that’s not the point. You’re going to have a fab month so don’t be sorry for anything unless it’s super mean in which case you should be sozx10.

CAPRICORN

I get you’re not made of capri pants and corn, but if you want to be that kind of outrageous, go for it.

The world is a weird place where people can still wear Crocs; just don’t do that.

AQUARIUS

The reason you’re perfect is because you have the same star sign as Harry Styles, and what more would one wish for in the zodiac realm? Nothing.

That’s all I have to say.

PISCES

It’s time to pick yourself up, because you’re falling to pieces. Even the neighbour’s dog agrees. And yes, this is as bad as the song The Script released.

Aka, sort your shit.

Then and Now: The Sweet 16 Crossword

CROSSWORD ETC..

DOWN 1. Before the phone was his weapon of choice, Russell Crowe wielded a sword in this 2000 film. (9) 2. One hit wonders Crazy Town topped the charts with this timeless classic. (9) 3. The place you wind up when a boy or girl decides they like you but don’t want to date you. (10) 5. Former US president who earned the title of Time Magazine’s ‘Person of the Year’ in 2000. (6,4) 6. The names of the mascots of the Olympics, Sydney Millennium: a kookaburra, platy-pus and echidna.

(4,3,3,6) 9. The 21st century equivalent of ‘teenyboppers’ ___ are young teens who act older than they are. (8) 14. Before the iPod, this CD player ruled portable music.

(7) 15. A popular but short lived Australian coming of age TV drama, ___ Blues. (7) 16. Jaden Smith’s hair whippin’ sis. (6) 19. Australian’s jolliest jumbuck thief was a ___man. (4)

ACROSS 4. Aussie jungle girl, child star and dancing hero who has, to her credit, neither Miley Cyrus’ed or Macaulay Culkin’ed her way into adulthood. (5,5) 7. This infamous underage drinker’s beverage of choice, manufactured by Smirnoff. (#DrinkWise) (8) 8. Before ‘Yonce was all on this mouth like liquor she was a member of this popular R’n’B group. (8,5) 10. Before streaming, BluRay and DVD, a ____ player was the prime video format. (3) 11. The kind of Kisses Aussie pop icon, Nikki Webster was missing. (10) 12. Voldy and the gang murdered Harry’s competitor ___ at the end of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

(6,7) 13. Miley’s young pop star alias. (6,7) 17. 77 and 69, revolution is in the air, everybody who wished they were a punk rocker put these in their hair.

(7) 18. The inevitable sixth instalment in the comedy heist film franchise starring George Clooney, Brad Pitt and Matt Damon. (6,7) 20. Zac Efron’s regrettable hand tattoo says ___. (4)