I shovel some red powder into the mix. It puffs like dragon’s breath as it joins the cement, sand and aggregate. I don’t like grey concrete. Cocooned in my earmuffs, my mind wanders...
Every time I start a conversation about inappropriate development in Byron I hear the same tired refrain. ‘Byron’s fucked anyway.’ This is based on the belief that it used to be good but now it’s not.
As Australia’s Prime Minister plays with lumps of coal and prays for rain, a major new scientific report has called for the urgent, world-wide phase-out of fossil fuels, as the goal of limiting global warming to 1.5°C drifts rapidly and dangerously out of reach.
Women across Australia will be breathing a sigh of relief at the PM's decision to stop taxing tampons, says Mungo. But many may be asking what took him – and the government – so long to do it.
Death with Dignity In July 2018, two weeks before his 35th birthday, our world lost a gentle giant, Ryan Greig. Ryan was born on 17th July 1982 in Tweed Hospital. His mother Tracey has only one son now, as does... Read More →
We found it dead on the sand near the mouth of the Tallow’ the woman said. The corpse stunk a little but I hardly noticed. I was so astonished. What was this platypus doing here? Who knew there were any around this side of Byron Bay? How did it live? As importantly, how did it die?
My place. Sunday, 5.15pm The nutritious detritus from the last barby, a few days ago, is creating a tantalising smell as the barby heats up. The scent drifts past my nose and out into the valley. I breathe it in.... Read More →
Last week someone, let’s say a man, on social media called me a bogan. And a cunt. It was meant to shame me. To humiliate me. To put me in my place. To remind me that not only am I... Read More →
That’s what happens when you make a captain’s pick, choose your mates to fill important jobs because… well, basically because they are your mates. We have often been told that Malcolm Turnbull didn’t really have mates – associates, contacts, acquaintances... Read More →
For Brunswick Heads and Huonbrook girl Sandy Greenwood, an Aboriginal actress, writer, and producer from the Dunghutti, Gumbaynggirr and Bundjulung tribes of the east coast of Australia, the stories of her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother still resonate in her life today.
Don’t you love it when a politician, like – say – the PM, tells you black is white. Or, at least, black should be white. I love (not) the way a federal politician lies. He will puff himself up like a cane toad…
What a strange world we have created. Or should I say ‘stuffed up’. We’re overstuffed. Stuff on sale. Stuff arriving at your door. Stuff floating out to sea. Stuff breaking down into nanoparticles and going into fish that we end up eating.
Many in our community have been personally affected by youth violence and crime. My heart goes out to the parents and young people who have been affected by the awful threats and violence being perpetrated.
Under normal circumstances Australians do not spend much time thinking about aged care facilities. If we have to mention them, it is usually by way of euphemism: we talk of twilight homes, or God’s waiting room.
The people of the Sepik River in Papua New Guinea understand the threat to their lives and culture from the Chinese-owned copper and gold mine that is currently being proposed to be built on the Frieda River, a tributary of the headwaters of the Sepik River.
he serves field mushrooms topped with capsicum and – well, I’m not sure; it was something greenish, probably from the garden out the back – the lot topped with melted cheese. I take one, put it on my plate.
Next time you blow a tyre on a pothole in our Shire, don’t curse Council, curse your neighbours who live in Sydney, Melbourne, or Brisbane and rent their house out on Airbnb or Booking.com. It’s their greed that put it there.
Neoliberalism is the dead parrot of our times. It’s been knocked off its perch by a combination of greed, ineptitude and public disquiet over inequality. It was meant to deliver greater prosperity for all but ended up deepening social and economic divisions.
We still don’t know just who or what the new prime minister is, but he is determined to tell us whether we like it or not. Our manic leader is seldom lost for words and this is just as well as he appears chronically short of ideas.
The recent rain underlines just how lucky we are in the Northern Rivers bubble. But the recent dry spell underlines just how crucial a predictable climate is to our survival.
When I first started watching Handmaid’s Tale, I thought it was simply a disturbing fairytale set in a totalitarian society where fertility is controlled through the oppression and subjugation of women as breeding stock.
What lichens truly are is still startling. One apparently global species turns out to be made of one species of fungi with a different species of algae depending which hemisphere it finds itself.
When the world falls apart, when all those careful plans collapse in smouldering ruins, when the present seems desolate and the future seems hopeless, there is only one recourse: invoke the ghost of Robert Menzies.
Sometimes, people do things which are so beautiful, it makes you cry. Sure, people often do things that make you want to cry, but I’m talking good cry, not bad cry.
I have used manipulation to gain love. It’s not a very attractive admission, but there you have it. I am guilty. It was a few years ago when my middle daughter Sophia was being particularly difficult.