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[23/10/23] Feeling pangful and trying to find a word that means ‘ripe and oozing with the possibility of language and its impossibility in conveying all that is felt’, or Maggie Nelson might say, ‘the inexpressible is contained within the expressed’ — yes? Cat hair clouds backlit by that apricot Naarm sun who shines more politely than in the West. Where to even begin to begin; certainly tired, certainly full, saturated in a comfortable way, heavy with rest and the loving drawn-out hum of knowing someone over a long long time. Isn’t it just so good to have shared so much, come into disagreement and understanding again and again, to have shot the shit and shone light over each other’s fences late at night, maybe done the dirty, pashed and come clean, and to have let silence seep warmly between us without worry. For a week I slept in that old friend’s bed under a very familiar doona between unfamiliar walls, in an unfamiliar town. Preston is perfectly quiet and the garden enjoyed our daily attention. Between the two of us we always rustle up a gusty kind of enthusiasm that gets directed into tasks of varying silliness. The gardening was fairly useful, our pruning even coming in handy for an assignment in their horticulture cert. And the willow swung free with a smile (I like to imagine) when we finally tore down that creeper. Other quasi-serious endeavours included arranging the furniture suitably for the movie screening, and adjacent email administration at the kitchen table. Some of our least-serious tasks might be difficult to describe to the layperson (as in every long term relationship, we have cultivated a deep and complex lore of sentimental jokes, niche physical modes of comedy and three-dimensional characters). But imagine, if you will, two old friends partner dancing in the living room while their favourite "only-while-high" jazz record plays and the uber is on its way. Or perhaps the morning gesture; warm feet first touch cold kitchen tiles and kettle is already boiling. Even; palms warmed over the residual heat of the convection stove then pressed to whiskery cheeks. It was a good week. 







Illicit Transmission Ambiguous Encounter, review of Bridget Chappel and Debris Facility's residency at Cool Change Contemporary, published by un extended. Read here.

Of Cloven Hoof in Honey album essay, printed as part of the album booklet available for purchase here


Love Letter to Jenny Hval for Love Letters Zine Issue #3. Order zine here. Read letter here.

Film review of Silence, Pat Collinspublished in VHS Tracking. Read here

Sisters Akousmatica's embodied radio: discursive strategies to support gender minorities in the sound arts, (unpublished Honours thesis), Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts, Edith Cowan University [email <> to request]

Sisters Akousmatica’s ‘expanded radio’ practice as radical feminist broadcast, published in the Australasian Computer Music Conference (ACMC) 2019 Proceedings (23rd-27th July 2019) [email <> to request]


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