I took this photo in the bathroom at 1am because the melatonin hadn’t kicked in yet.

I live on the edge of the hem on the outskirts of Melbourne, in Australia. Winter is easier to bear here than in the flatter concrete burbs even though the temperature is a few degrees cooler. Winter in the burbs is like a character that can’t find a play. Shit, everything in the burbs is like a character that can’t find a play.

I write essays, blog posts and fiction and type your audio. Well, sometimes. I am out of action for great swathes of time because I’m underground with myalgic encephalomyelitis. My portfolio is here. I also randomly write at my writer’s blog, on Steemit and on Twitter. Please email me with financially and creatively tantalising proposals. I’m interested in the big picture, the interdisciplinary, the polymathical. In trying to not sound too much like a wanker. In how we stay sane, and how we hang onto art and culture and how we can have discussions in such a fractured age where everything’s been monetised and too many people spend weeks at a time not having the opportunity to indulge their imagination. In power to the people. The political is most certainly personal. I’m into the next version of doing things differently. I can just about smell it.

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