Keywords: Buried
There are more than 200 results, only the first 200 are displayed here.
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- Garry Eastman
- 09 April 2015
26 Comments
I looked down at the two coffins resting at the edge of the sanctuary and shed a tear for the tragic loss of two great friends. I shed another tear also to see such public recognition of the love these two young men had for each other, to see that it was embraced by the public face of the Church which said clearly, 'Who are we to judge, they are our brothers.'
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CARTOON
- Fiona Katauskas
- 25 March 2015
2 Comments
View this week's offering from Eureka Street's award winning political cartoonist.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Brian Doyle
- 16 December 2014
4 Comments
I can tell you that Fitzroy always was and will be a wry wilderness; Every colour and ethnicity and language you can imagine lives there... And now I see wee quiet shy Mary MacKillop there, minding a shop. She is fourteen. Her people are Scottish. She will be legendary, later.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Tim Kroenert
- 20 November 2014
2 Comments
The three recently reunited sisters are immersed in whispered conversation, during the second day of mourning at the house. In the next room, older men in ceremonial garb chant a mourning ritual. Suddenly, the sisters get the giggles, only to be angrily shushed by one of the men in the next room. But grief can't be stage managed, and it seems only natural that the process should be guided by normal human interaction.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Rory Harris
- 28 October 2014
2 Comments
you rattled the night around kitchen tables, water glasses filled with new wine healing history, roses on your cheeks & thunder in your heart
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Tim Kroenert
- 09 October 2014
5 Comments
'If we strapped a bunch of Men's Rights Advocates to beds and downloaded their nightmares, I don't think we'd come up with stuff half as ridiculous as this plot,' wrote one blogger. Dogged by charges of misogyny since the release of her novel (and now film) Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn nonetheless maintains her right to create interesting, complicated female villains.
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AUSTRALIA
- Andrew Hamilton
- 10 September 2014
19 Comments
Suicide excludes people from any participation in this decisive act of people's lives, and also prevents them from understanding it. Suicide is always shrouded in silence, and arouses dread at entering the silence. The wrenching cry at the heart of of memories wrestles with the silence, 'Why did you do it?'.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Barry Gittins and Jen Vuk
- 01 August 2014
3 Comments
In his native Japan, the name Haruki Murakami has immense currency. In the first week of its release his latest novel Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage sold more than one million copies. Coming from a traditional culture where assimilation and social order has been a historical imperative, perhaps the book's themes go beyond the intimate to acknowledge the soul-eating, conformist nature of society.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
He was a civil engineer. His professional life was a matter of mathematics and rules. Driving over a bridge, he’d quote the equations that ensured it was safe and stable. There were formulae in his domestic life too. Strict rules about stacking the dishwasher. Knives and forks pointed downwards, to avoid careless stabbings.
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RELIGION
She was walking up and down the middle of Roslyn Street, wailing. I put my arms over her shoulders: 'It's all-right Delma, its okay.' She turned and looked at me: 'Don't tell me it's all-right. It's not all-right'. It was for all the wrongs, all the anguish, the suffering, the pain, the separation from her family, land, culture, her children. I couldn't leave her. I called an ambulance. As she was carted out, she looked up from the stretcher: 'You betrayed me.'
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ARTS AND CULTURE
This little app drives the car for you while you're texting. This little app pushes the child on the swing while you're tweeting. This little app thanks the bus-driver, the taxi-driver, the butcher. This little app watches the movie and eats the popcorn while you're messaging. This little app talks to the neighbour, the carpenter, the courier. This little app makes eye contact with passers-by.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
I'm sitting on sturdy chair, stretch cotton nightie, baby to my breast in this pale light, my newest success. Memory has framed this view, of life dawning, love nestled quietly in a sure footed chair. Years on, that honeyed perfection, the bliss of triumphant togetherness, soothes the shock of his rage, his energy.
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