Honi Soit editors are insufferable. After a week of sitting in the depths of the Wentworth Building and taking creative liberties with the tale of Glebe Markets, on Saturday we relocated to — yet another confined space — Deaundre’s bedroom. The party raged on outside and yet we spent most of our time sitting on the floor with each other — as if we don’t already waste the rest of the week circling each other’s orbits.
Nevertheless, one of my favourite parts of editing this paper is holding it in my hands on Wednesdays. I flick through its coloured pages and hear Juliette’s dissent. Deaundre’s writing always reminds me of his insistence that he’s more sincere over text, but Shania’s formal complaints to the grievance officers say otherwise. There’s barely a standfirst in this paper that hasn’t been conjured up by Marlow or a spread that hasn’t been saved by Vivienne. As I sit here in the OB room and write this, Claire and Max are cackling about [CENSORED]. There really is no soundproofing in the SRC offices. Jeffrey’s organisation and Sam’s perpetual cool get us through many a lay up, mid week zoom, and crisis meeting. I couldn’t imagine a Sunday without them. God they’re good!
This edition celebrates the buildings we’ll mourn and the furry faces we hope to see more of on campus. Leah Bruce memorialises Bosch Commons on page 10 — home of the first year English lecture and the hungover college student churning out their ENGO1001 essay after a long night at the Sals. I will miss their withering stares as I refill my water bottle one too many times. Maxim Adams infamously drew fantastic animals in Kindergarten we attended. I’m pleased to confirm all these years later he still lives up to the hype (pg 7).
There is also an unprecedented amount of music-related content. Maybe now my parents will forgive me for never reading 1001 Songs, or for the years of my early childhood I spent dismissing Bob Dylan. Maddy Briggs calls her father to discuss the avant-garde on page 17. It reminds me of long tense discussions with my own father about the new Olivia Rodrigo track or Radio Birdman. I think our parents would get along, so long as Gary Briggs doesn’t mention The Gravy Song. On page 16 Tasia Kuznichenko extols the virtues of Miike Snow. I’ve been lucky enough to spend the past four years listening to her musings on contemporary pop, so I’m glad she’s finally sharing them with all of you. And thank you to Janina Osinsao for the beautiful cover.
Thank you all for writing in this edition.
Next round’s on me.