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i am a dinosaur / old fogie off with pixies / poor old dodder-bloke! / i grow wings and fly ... telling my song-story / you would put me in my box?
A motley crue of people standing as one is very romantic in such a divide-and-conquer age. That they are standing up to Macron, ex-investment banker and now President, and the austerity tactics of a failing economic system is cause for celebration if you happen to love the idea of a fair society and people fighting for its return.
The power of this experience of place prompts reflection on the way in which young people who live in areas marked by multiple disadvantage relate to place. Many say they hate the areas in which they have grown up. This would be an understandable response to a world in which they have found neither opportunity nor beauty.
At 4am on a cold morning, my brother phoned from the hospital. My final conversation with my mother, while harrowing, was not unexpected. My attempts to thank her for who she was and what she had given to me did not suffice. Mother Merle was in a hurry to leave this life, and the cancer that had drained her strength. She was over it.
There are those who are living, aged a few minutes younger than the soil; there are those who are loving, aged a few hours younger than the soil ... The soil is to claim them for eternity, and they too will be older than the living, who are filling the seconds with their life story.
In the wake of the Christchurch attacks, I’m not interested in learning how the person who killed those people was radicalised. It’s the oldest story in the world. It’s what happens when you decide the humanity of a group of people no longer matters. I’m tired of that story. I need a new one.
Because this story is in the political arena, it seems vicious comments from celebrities, politicians, and countless others are made with impunity. And we wonder why young people can be so cruel online and why it is so hard to educate them that words matter; that words hurt. Then, as they say, the story got complicated.
I cannot help but think about the level of cognitive dissonance required to believe you hold not only the rights to an entire holiday, but also the moral high ground, all while occupying buildings built on stolen lands. The migration of this celebration to this continent did not happen in isolation from the violence of invasion and colonisation.
As I sit in the Paris end of Collins street, I touch a poor woman's shoulder, and she looks up, her head wrapped in a veil, and I hand her some money. She clasps my hand, says thank you. Fingers count the rosary of coins. How will she know she is loved?
Frank Brennan's keynote address to the National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Catholic Council Assembly entitled: 'Strong Faith. Strong Youth. Strong Future — Walking Together in a movement of the Australian people for a better future'. 1 October 2018, Technology Park — Bentley, Perth
Oh, you snake oil selling provocateur, you faux gilded imposter, selling authoritarianism for American democracy; may you choke on your own phlegm-filled speeches, your conspiratorial rants, your endless quiver of lies, whose equivocal insults you brandish and shoot like arrows at those whose integrity you should quaver beneath.
I know we are a cultured society that forbids ever talking about 'if tomorrow never comes'. But tomorrow is never a promise to anyone.
37-48 out of 200 results.