A memory of sedated Sundays

Stress, sadness and making star shapes out of shoes

Victoria Zerbst on the breast that feeds you

If you have a spare few hours in these early weeks of semester, head down to the rare books section of Fisher Level 1, and ask to see the old copies of Honi Soit. Their yellowed pages are filled with names, many of which you might just recognise: Kirbys, and Abbotts, and Greers. (Oh my!)…

Joanna Connolly pens the final editorial of 2015.

I recently learnt how to say no. It was at the departure gate in Brisbane airport, less than a week ago. He was very pleasant, very concerned. He told me they have a group in Sydney who pray for people like me.[1] There were no curious onlookers or self-righteously indignant friends; I didn’t need to…

If I could put down in a few words what every single year of university so far has taught me, it’s that everything changes. This isn’t a particularly original or novel thought, but it’s always there. It’s in the friends we had in first year, the internship we slaved away at last semester, the loves…

“It is terrible” “use it to wipe my bum” “more vaginas lol” That’s some of the feedback from our mid-year reader survey rearranged into a haiku. “Atrocious bias against Liberals. Hasn’t been a good year for Honi” “More articles that dont constantly bash all men.” And that’s the consequence of sharing the survey on Reddit.…

Boredom is the low energy state of the universe to which all things within it are inexorably drawn. The cosmos is 13.8 billion years old and every one of its apparently infinite seconds is a step in the indefatigable march towards bitter cold. In time, every atom will be so far divorced from its nearest…

Another year goes by and, again, I find myself huddled up in the Honi office for a few more weeks. I’ve been overusing Facebook ‘stickers’ as unrelated reaction images amidst a flurry of typing, laying up and begging my contributors to please send their work in so I can edit it! I’ve been so snowed…