Miondor. Two suns. Acidic oceans. True Night comes once a year. Prince Eraus, second son of King Horaus and Queen Moran, was born of True Night. He’s shy, bookish, and adored by the people. Torn between his devotion to duty and his desire for obscurity, Eraus wants to live a quiet, uneventful
Matilda McRudy was no girl. Matilda McRudy was a woman: long, muddy locks of mousey, brown hair; eyes the deepest blue speckled with sunshine green; braces that made sunshine dance even in winter’s lazy afternoon; and the largest furriest monobrow that you could just nuzzle for hours. “But why?” whined Tommy Tucker.
‘Aussie Gods – The Photo Book’ is a visual exploration of the male physique. It contains 375 original images of gorgeous male models, all beautifully photographed by Brett Kiellerop. The images in this book range from quirky and creative studio shots, to traditional underwear and swimwear photos, to stylised nudes. This book
From the moment they erupted into existence, Left and Right hated each other. The only thing they hated more than each other was their jail on the chest of their host. They despised being forced to co-exist. Left was slightly larger, Right slightly perkier. Left hogged the bra, Right hogged the attention.
Twenty years ago, David and I were completely unaware of issues relating to gay rights unless they affected us directly. We were young and in love, and although we knew that large segments of society were railing against our form of relationship, we didn’t care. It was almost a hedonistic, insular approach
The Australian plebiscite on same-sex marriage is the result of the Americanisation of Australia… an Australia struggling to separate Church from State to become a truly secular country. When I was younger, Australia felt like a progressive, open-minded place. We had nudity in films and on TV. Everyone was given a ‘fair go’,
Let’s do it… let’s shove that genie back into the bottle But can we? These days, nothing can be completely undone. No action goes unrecorded. No data is irrecoverably deleted. Every movement leaves a trace. Smoke and mirrors cast shadows. This particular genie had paid out generously, when first released from his
Artemis couldn’t get comfortable. The ivy itched, the night air was too cold, and a friendly beetle wasn’t taking the hint. Something promised to be easy was turning out to be hard. Artemis closed his eyes. Three, two, one, then looked around. Nothing had changed, except now the beetle had brought friends.
I sat with my back to the girl in labour. Of course, at my age, anyone younger than twenty harvests is considered to be a girl. I could hear her screams, her panting. I could hear the midwife reassuring her, telling her to push. I could hear the girl cursing and swearing,
You hold my heart in your hands You didn’t choose to, I gave it to you My heart is yours, for you to do as you will You hold my heart in your hands Don’t squeeze it, and please don’t tease it My heart is yours, for the tears you’ve spilled You
Get out! The sticky message oozed down my freshly painted kitchen wall, blood contrasting nicely with the daffodil yellow I’d chosen at Bunnings. I placed the paint roller into the tray and stepped back, frustrated and shocked. The reason for my frustration? The wall was still wet. The reason for my shock?
Most of the time, the machines hiss and wheeze like my old man smoking his way through yet another pack. Even in my dreams they were are never far away. I remember this dream once of duelling seagulls, one hissing, the other wheezing with pumped-up gusto, as they bowed, hopped ten paces,
Everything I’ve ever said a lie, except those bits which were extremely true. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, my intentions. Not figurative Hell, not small-h hell, that part is a lie for children. Proper Hell, the Hell of the Bible, the Hell where Beats lie in wait for
Just to state the obvious, there was a tough adjustment period when I lost a large chunk of my vision in 2012. I had to get used to my white cane, and the different sensory inputs needed to navigate the streets. But perhaps the bigger adjustment was learning just how insensitive and self-absorbed
We’d saved for millennia for this meal. It took five centuries just to save the reservation fee. Now, finally, we had a table for two at the Restaurant of the Universal Mindscape, the product of the combined spare processing power of every human mind in the galaxy, all jacked into one stunning