opinios

Melbourne based MC Raw-B has served up another collection of rhymes that you can hear shaking and rolling in your head when you read them to yourself and cotton on to the groove. I just saw Eight Mile on DVD and it reignited my appreciation for rhymes and hip hop lyrics. Put some drum and bass on in the background and let Raw-B dance around in your head for a bit! I think Intentions is one of my favourites of his to date - buddy, we've all been there.

Infinite Juxtaposition of Destiny | Patience | Intentions

Mie wondered if she wasn't making contact with him on purpose, perhaps willing the masses to sway in her favour, "accidentally" leaning on him against her own volition. Partly it was true - she couldn't really avoid it. But she knew she was lingering, staying to feel his warmth, and when the crowd leaned back again, her hesitation turned a brief touch into a signal, a sign of intimacy yearned for.

For three stations she let herself lean forward, supposedly unable to do anything about this circumstantial union of their hands. Mie closed her eyes and savoured the energy she was deriving from his touch. Images of kindness, warmth and happiness flooded her heart and she began to feel excited at the thrill of new prospects, new love, a new connection.

Ok, I have been working on a big piece of writing that I hope to finish soon, but in the mean time this came out of my disturbed mind. Maybe it is all the rain we have been having lately. Definitely don't read this if you are looking for a pick-me-up, but if you are curious about what living in a big city can bring you to create, check out Balance, my latest perverse work of fiction.

It was a clear fresh day and the sun shone crisply and Geoff, being unemployed, had a lot of time to enjoy it. He was still standing in his dirty underpants, fresh from bed yet fusty and unshaven, a crop of ginger hairs poking through his chin. He had just finished his first cigarette of the day and tossed the butt into a used coffee cup. He then went outside and sat in his small garden and shut his eyes. The sun pressed on his face so that inside his eyelids burned red. His mind wandered toward Bosch's last request and the red and blue sports bag that lay inside the kitchen door. As he dozed a little fly landed on his arm and walked between his hairs in short jerky sets. Quickly he slapped it flat and flicked off the pancaked corpse. "What did it matter?" he thought, "Bosch was dead. He wouldn't ever know whether it happened or not. Surely he couldn't care. He was dead, right?"

I am very excited to present the latest piece of writing from Nick Prothero. I think you will agree with this effort he is really developing a mastery of the craft of short-story telling. Click here to read Last Request, I guarantee you will enjoy it.

Of course after a drought, when it rains, it pours! Kinki extends the chase by returning Hammy's lob with a healthy dose of top spin! Who will take the plunge next? Click here to read the story to date...

Hammy has come to the party by submitting the second part of the collaborative story. The search for Josh is on, but no-one knows why. And where was he last night, anyway? Check out the plot as it unfolds here, and have a think about what might happen next... it's up to you!

Contribute to the story by emailing the next instalment to canvas AT opinios.com.

So after that little wander down a dark alley let's get back to it.

Here is a little poem that I wrote the other day while I was seething in anger and frustration at a person who I have to teach with. Honestly, I don't understand how this person ever became an English teacher. She is quite simply the most disorganized, clueless person I have ever met. And although I can usually forgive such flaws, to top it off she is a control freak who insists on making last minute changes to my lesson plans and is unbelievably stubborn about it, even on days when she has completely forgotten that I am even scheduled to teach at her school. Get your act together!!

Aaarrrggh!

Josh's apartment was not really an apartment. It was more like a wide broom closet with a sink. It was minimally furnished with a wobbly grey table on which plates, utensils and breakfast cereal boxes performed a balancing act for an empty audience. An army-issue camping mat was rolled up in one corner, and on the opposite side of the room a well-travelled suitcase lay open, its contents scattered about the room like a collage of clothes. There were no windows.

Ok, here is a little experiment to make opinios even more interactive. You guys shape the story. I want submissions for how it continues, and as they come in I will update it. Who are these people? What happens to them? Humour and silliness are welcome but if it gets too crude I won't post it. How good can this collaborative story be? It's up to you.

If two people happen to send in continuing paragraphs at the same time then I will choose the best one. Let's make each submission, say, a minimum of one paragraph, a maximum of three. Maybe we can finish it in ten, maybe it will go on forever.

Click here to read the opening paragraphs. I have kicked it off, how it evolves is up to you... Contribute to the story by emailing the next instalment to canvas AT opinios.com.

The nightwind has a voice. It speaks softly in song. Lie still in tall grass and feel the planet breathe around you. The universe is a thing of life; of creation. We are moved by the planets for we move like them. Circles large and small, we are all part of the same cycle, we propel the same wheel. In and out of darkness, our seasons change and our hearts yearn as the tides turn. We grow what we can. The nightwind has a voice.

Ray steps up to the plate to throw a bit of futurism, a solid serve of politics, some serious soul-searching and some masterful metaphor into the mix for our digestion. Click here for an insight into his take on the world from the point of view of... well, you be the judge.

Kim shows her versatility with a couple of poems that I somehow overlooked when bringing over the original opinios content. Both powerful, but written from starkly different viewpoints...

My Little Mad Turns | Two Pieces Of The Same Puzzle

You see, tea is an institution. When you roll up at someone's 'ouse, and without saying nothing, they pull out a brew just how you like it; milk and two, milk no sugar, just black, half a sugar and a little bit muddy if you're fussy. It's like you really know someone if you know 'ow they like their tea.

Nick Prothero sends another quality short story through, with his trademark quirky characters described through the delightful voice of the ever trusting British postie on his round, in the search for a quality cuppa...

Ok I had an awesome holiday in Australia and downed countless Coopers beers and wonderful wines with friends and family which you can read all about on 35 degrees. I see the discussion board getting out of control in my absence (is that a good thing?) but let's flip it back to the creativity with MC Raw-B:

maybe i'm mistaken for giving without taking, heart breaking, love making, soul shaking, it's all the same in any existing relationship, when love defines your existence, hard to stay persistent and not miss em n crawl back to that space of resistance, pick up missions where no-one listens n just gives sympathetic expressions, so you count your lessons and old love letters, create other memories to forget her, hoping jealousy will hurt her, but this space feels murder...

Melbourne-based MC Raw-B, otherwise known as Luke Brown, submits some run-on rhymes that roll and punch, hip hop from the soul. Look out for his EP out soon under the awakenings record label.

Fine Lines | Lucky Stars | Walking

The Chinese have a traditional teaching method that has developed over the last 5,000 years. Ba zhe shou jiao - that is, 'teaching by holding their hands'. The idea behind this method of teaching is that the child will happily continue to come back for more by carefully molding and shaping absolutely everything they do throughout their childhoods and adolescence. As a result of this careful molding and shaping however, the child does not learn how to be creative, the child does not learn how to think independently or creatively for themselves. To be totally honest, the child actually doesn't learn how to do ANYTHING!

Nick Souter delves into some of the problems children in post-Mao China face when trying to catch up with the rest of the world - as made evident by their approach to studying English - and how he is doing his little bit to help them break free from Big Mama...

Click here to read more.

i wonder if next time
she pass by
i don't just smile
and give my brothers high five
don't just dip my feet
but take a dive
forget the lines
and get myself
someone nice

Nick Palubinski presents to us some of his typically cruisy lyrics that masterfully capture the flow of commuters in a big city, the flow of winter into autumn, and the flow of red wine as Miles Davis plods away in the background... great stuff.

Strange Fish | Song For Autumn | Listening To Kind Of Blue

The morning broke across Jimmy's face through a single rip in the curtains. A solitary ray of sunshine. He pulled on his clothes and crept downstairs to find some breakfast, and with an apple in hand, he stole out of the house, ambling across the parched lawn towards the bus stop. He stood next to the dry road awaiting the school bus and subsequent abuse, clutching the book of fairy tales to his chest like a shield.

Nick Prothero weaves a tale of a little boy with a simple dream and a frog for a friend... and potentially reveals a few things about his upbringing along the way... Nick?

"Eventually the hills closed in on the road and forced us to make our path around their contours. The road climbed across them on gradually steeper and higher paths until we were among mountains. A sharp and terrifying drop lay to the right of the road and the bus driver, his blue-eyed good luck charms bobbing around him, decided that the best strategy was to drive in precisely the middle of the road until forced to one side by oncoming traffic."

Andrew Harder has posted some new material to his blog, most of it centred around his recent travels through South-Eastern Turkey. Give him some feedback - he invites comments on his writing - or catch up on some of his other more sarcastic stories on harder.com.

Kim has another crack at capturing the often depressing slums of Tokyo in poetic verse, this time combining her missive with some visuals to complement it.

Daryl relays some humour from the fast-paced walls of the nursing home, while Karyn's poem sends a more confronting message to those who are unable to look beyond her chair...

Ethel's Wheelchair | If I

Here's a short story about some shady characters I mingled with in an onsen in Hokkaido.

I dug up this opinion piece that I wrote for crikey.com.au a while back, just after getting back from a holiday in Alice Springs and the surrounds. I still struggle to get my head around the issues surrounding central Australia - I often feel really passionate about it; and then sometimes it all just gets too hard and it is easier to "ignore it and it will go away".

Well, not likely.

Kim shares a moving poem about the rising numbers of homeless people gathered at Ikebukuro station.