
There is something confronting about the disembodied voice of a stranger on the telephone, particularly when it’s someone you may fall in love with. Continue reading

There is something confronting about the disembodied voice of a stranger on the telephone, particularly when it’s someone you may fall in love with. Continue reading

I have had a short story published in this edition of The Review of Australian Fiction.
Please feel free to buy a copy if you feel so moved.
http://reviewofaustralianfiction.com/issues/volume-16-issue-3/
Greetings Dear Reader,
As you may have noticed, I have undergone a prolonged absence. It has not been because I have been doing other things; rather, an extraordinary occurrence overtook me a month ago and completely sapped me of the desire to write. It wasn’t negative, but so profound I haven’t been able to do much other than go to work. Nothing painful; just dazzling. I may write about it at a later stage.
I am getting back on the horse and starting to produce some essays and the like. In the meantime, I thought I’d post this chapter from the novel I’ve been working on for the last nine months. I’ll have it finished soon and will publish more of it accordingly. I thought to post this today because I went to the gym and engaged in one of my absolute favorite activities; squatting with a barbell across my back. Perhaps you share my enthusiasm. Otherwise, perhaps this piece will give you a doorway into it.
Enjoy. Continue reading
More than anything else, this piece has gotten me into a lot of trouble. And, I expect, will continue to do so. Even though it was inspired by one woman, it has come to involve a number of others, none of whom were happy about it. Continue reading

When I was a little kid, my sisters and I had a baby-sitter after school. She wasn’t very interested in us; stuck pretty much to reading her romance novels. And to get the peace and quiet required to read, she’d plonk us down in front of a lot of Walt Disney films.
My favourite? Sleeping Beauty. Maleficent the witch queen reminded me of the women in the magazines my father kept hidden in his study. Brazen and powerful, they stared down the camera and into me with a mixture of desire and contempt. Continue reading
T.C. Boyle is a modern master.
Anyone who has been following my book and film reviews has probably, as a result, primarily formed a picture of me as a critic; embittered as a result of his own frustrated attempts to be published, etc. etc. Therefore, it comes as a great relief to be able to say that I have finally read something I really liked. Continue reading

I went to see Red Stitch Theatre’s production of The Tectonic Theatre Group’s play The Laramie Project – 10 Years’ Later on Saturday night. It is an interesting thing, going to a cultural event in Inner-City Melbourne. I’m going to put it to you like this, and in so doing, possibly reveal myself as paranoid, Continue reading
http://www.gladwell.com/2002/2002_07_22_a_talent.htm
I did my final four years of high school at Melbourne Grammar. Whenever I hear the song ‘Know your Enemy’ by Rage Against the Machine, it takes me back to wearing the blue school uniform, milling around the Old Bluestone:
“Yes I know my enemies,
They’re the teachers who taught me to fight me
compromise
conformity
assimilation
submission
ignorance
hypocrisy
brutality
the elite
all of which are American dreams.”
I hated the place. Continue reading