seriously, though. at least the thing with the Delacroix wasn’t about Les Misérables, that would have been exceptionally dull.

the best advice and most hilarious conversation

Golden Lights is to The Smiths what Hitsville UK is to The Clash.

Why Even Religion?

Dubito Ergo Sum
ii.

The notion of god—or, ‘God’, if you’d rather—is hardly contemporary.

Morals informed by religious beliefs are only tenuously secular.

The fact that religion can be called upon to justify holding and acting upon certain prejudices is hardly progressive.

… AND YET, going by the pervasive influence that ‘the church’ controls in contemporary, secular and progressive Australia, it doesn’t follow that being any of these things is inconsistent with being religious.

So what about the other way around?

I feel like Australia is facing a cultural and political climate in which it’s prudent to consider how seriously we take secular politics and the ‘separation of church and state’. I mean, as a responsible citizens, are we are comfortable with ethics that are informed as much by How Some Person Interprets Some Archaic Text, as the reality of the moral dilemmas to which they apply? Is that an unfair question to ask? Perhaps.

Politically, we are starting to accept that certain moral decisions do not concern religion, but there is still reluctance in following that they should not consult traditional Christianity.

Perhaps it’s something about social evolution or development or whether and where and in what order ‘Christian’ and ‘traditional’ overlap. Perhaps something has changed.

Ultimately, it seems, religion just doesn’t need a particularly significant catalyst to be topical. Which is strange, given that religion just isn’t topical: it does not act or interact in a manner relevant to things that are topical.

Religion is, simultaneously, irrelevant and crucial.

[ continue reading ]   or   [ read all ]

fox hero. in case you forgot. library hero.

every all these things.

all the heroics.

you should see my life.

sometimes things aren’t controlled and they’re unlike how they should be, or they’re something like the Worst Year. that’s when the guilt’s worst and the fear’s worst and I can’t cope with autocorrect and internet filters.

it’s not darkness or some place to fall out of. it’s fear and guilt and stomach cramps. it’s allergic to being alive, awake and outdoors. it’s knowing feelings but not feeling them. it’s not indecision so much as paralysis. broken, like every time a doctor told me they can’t help, that it’s not chemical. told me it’s brainwaves. told me I’m stupidly intelligent. depressingly intelligent. overwhelmed. that I notice all the things, process them, work them out. that I should deal. because it never switches off.

this year, I’ve been messing with switches. I sleep better, but I can’t fix problems with the internet connection. and, now, it’s maybe coming to something. whatever.

I was funnier when it was out of control. I was more together.

I mean, sure, it was too much. so I never chose to save the world. I was indulgent. but always too earnest and always too intense. indulged in heartbreak. indulged in words. whatever.

it’s cyclical