Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Three Things I Don’t Write (and Three Things I Do)

Jason E. Rolfe tagged me to participate in this exercise. (Well, I asked him, and he said yes.) Here are my answers to the prompt Three things I don’t write (& three things I do).

Three things I don’t write

1. I don’t write crime. It’s been years and years since I read any crime – some Carl Hiaasen, I think, 4 books quite close together, 20 years ago – and while I enjoyed them (more for the humour) the idea of plotting a heist or a murder or some sort of smackdown (see, I can’t even get the terminology right!) leaves me ... well, bored is too weak a word! Completely disinterested. I mean, the doing of it, yes, that would be OK, writing about the doing ... but the detective work and the piecing together. Yeah, spare me. Life is too short.

2. I don’t write non-fiction I have to research. I don’t even like doing much research for the fiction I write! I do, however, much prefer reading non-fiction, so it’s a bind. I love reading about things but to do so as “research” takes out all the pleasure for me. I do write non-fiction, but it’s really more memoir than straight non-fiction. There are many many many subjects I love to read about but I can’t think of one of them I want to write about. I have to write a 400 word op-ed column / article for my day job for a local LGBT newspaper, once a month, and it’s a struggle to write, which I put off and off and off ...

3. I don’t really write about money struggles. When I was a student and had no money, I’m sure I wrote about money issues a lot more. (Well, I might have ... I think. Although maybe in my head I’ve always had enough money, even if reality proved different!) A character of mine (Morgana Malone) had no job until recently. I wrote about her having no income but I didn’t write about how it affected her life. I just wrote that she had no money so she stayed home in the dark a lot, to save on power bills, but that was more about the laugh than the reality of not having enough money. Maybe my characters are very much First World people. Well, there’s no maybe about it really ...

Three things I do write

1. I write funny. I write fun and humour and about ridiculous things. Stephen V. Ramey recently wrote of a story of mine, it’s “a well researched hoot, with just enough veracity to make one wonder if maybe this isn’t all that far fetched.” I write about absurd things, to make the reader laugh, but there is a huge truth to what I write. Truth really is stranger than fiction, and the world is a far more absurd place than we like to think when we are trying to be serious and problem solve.

2. I write about sex because sex is absurd. Sex is messy and silly and stupid and often not worth wasting too much time thinking about but still, we do. We do that a lot. And I don’t get this man / woman thing about sex and thinking about sex and love versus sex. I think it’s a lot of shit. Sometimes I want to say, stop thinking about it, and just do it. Stop doing this male versus female thing and just accept we are all different and all the same. I loathe the inherent sexism in a lot of gender bullshit, so I like to write about sex in a way that’s real and fun and silly and enjoyable but not voyeuristic. Tell it like it is. I can’t think of a character I have ever created who would be afraid of sex. Although I could be kidding myself there.

3. I write a good list. A good list has a good rhythm and they can usually wring humour out of a situation so that works for me. One of my favourite authors is Ellen Gilchrist, and she turned me on to the power of the list. Most lists are funny. Even if they start out as serious, they become funny because their length is absurd. Plus, I live by lists anyway, in my real everyday living life. So maybe my love of a good list is just an extension of that habit.

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Writing tag - My Writing Process Q & A

My Writing Process is a series of blog posts in which authors ‘tag’ each other to answer some questions about their work. Gill Hoffs asked me to take part, along with Shane Simmons.

About Gill Hoffs
Gill Hoffs grew up on the Scottish coast, studied Psychology, Biology and English Literature at the University of Glasgow, then worked with children with a variety of needs (ASD and/or EBD, mainly) throughout the UK. She married her best friend and they now live in Warrington in the north of England with their son Angus.

What am I working on?
I am working on the last 4 stories for my own part in Pure Slush’s '2014 A Year in Stories' which I am also editing. ‘2014 A Year in Stories’ is a multi-volume anthology and includes 12 volumes, each volume devoted to a month of the year, and therefore named January Vol. 1, February Vol. 2, etc.

Each writer involved is contributing one story per month ... so 12 stories in all, from 28 of the 31 writers involved. (11 from two of them, and 7 from the last.) And each of these writers is taking one day of each month – the 5th, the 13th, the 21st, for example - and setting his / her stories on that same day of every month.

So, for example, a writer takes the 10th – Friday 10th January, Monday 10th February, Monday 10th March, Thursday 10th April, etc – throughout the year. 

What we’re publishing is a series of stories from each writer that arcs across the whole year, involving the same character or set of characters. Twelve days in the life of that person or people. So every month, as the books are released, readers can dip into these characters’ lives. Like a serial.

You can find more about it here: http://pureslush.webs.com/2014.htm

How does my work differ from others of its genre?
What’s genre? God, what an awful question! What genre do I write? I usually write humorous stories ... so is humour a genre? Someone recently said my stories are ‘zany’, though I think ‘absurd’ is a better adjective. They are different from the humorous stories others write because they’re my sense of humour.

Why do I write what I do?
I write because life is better for me when I do so. I write what I do because I like to reframe life’s tragedies and absurdities in a funny way.

How does my writing process work?
I write to deadlines ... though I often miss them and then, don’t write. I often write because if I don’t, the ideas will disappear and the notes will just be disconnected scraps of paper. But still, I often don’t write even then. I usually write at night and sometimes into the early morning.

I have tagged Paul Combs and Stephen V. Ramey in this ...

Paul Combs lives in the not always literary state of Texas, and his ultimate goal (besides being a roadie for the E Street Band) is to make reading, writing, and books in general as popular in Texas as high school football. It may take a while. His fiction has previously appeared in Pure Slush, The Faircloth Review, and Postcard Poems and Prose.

Stephen V. Ramey is an American author of contemporary and speculative fiction.His short stories and flash fictions have appeared in dozens of places, from Microliterature to Daily Science Fiction. His first collection, Glass Animals, is available from Pure Slush Books.

Monday, October 8, 2012

The Next Big Thing

What is the working title of your book?
'On the Bitch'

Where did the idea come from for the book?

I needed to get back into writing, so I sent out email requests for prompts ... and very soon it became obvious the stories written from the prompts were working toward one overall story.

What genre does your book fall under?

I have no idea - it is just very me. I do funny / sad mostly. Humour? Well, probably but maybe not. Actually, it's a novella. What it isn't is horror, fantasy, sci-fi, poetry, chick lit, creative non-fiction, biography, memoir or tell-all muckraker. It's closest to literary fiction BUT my writing style is not that literary. It's more direct. And funnier.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Mostly Australian actors, of course, and one German actress. Richard Roxburgh would play the narrator Harvey. Who would play Magda? Dunno, but she would need to be German. Otto? William Zappa or Colin Friels. Valerie? Probably someone from New Zealand but with vocal coaching to get rid of those really really flat vowels. Kendalynn? Ah, she stumps me. Give me a casting book! Actually, speaking of New Zealanders, maybe Kerrie Fox with some ageing could play Kendalynn. I actually think it would make a great film and would be easily adaptable. I write in a very cinematic way.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

While spending the weekend at the beach with friends, a couple must decide if they have a future together.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
OK, these are two completely different questions here. I will be sending it to a publisher, who knows I will be sending it, once it's finished.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

It's not finished yet, but it's not far off. Which then begs a question, what's a draft? And when is a draft just pissing around?

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I don't read books like this. But favourite writers include Ellen Gilchrist and Augusten Burroughs, and you would note similarities. And a friend (who also writes), years ago, gave me a library copy of  'Me Talk Pretty One Day' by David Sedaris, saying, "He writes like you."

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

Growing bored and frustrated editing others' stories and a need to get back to writing and claim some of the glory myself!

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

It's funny and real and eye-opening and intelligent and immediate. You are there! And you'll probably want to be there and maybe even visit the beach and the town but perhaps not stay in the over-large house.

This was sent to me by Gill Hoffs. View her answers here: http://gillhoffs.wordpress.com/2012/10/09/the-next-big-thing-and-no-i-dont-mean-my-belly/

I sent it to Michael Webb, Nicola Belte, Joyce Juzwik, Richard Bon and Shane Simmons. And their answers can be found here:

Michael Webb: http://innocentsaccidentshints.blogspot.com.au/2012/10/10-questions-from-gill-hoffs.html?m=1

Joyce Juzwik: http://jfjuzwik.blogspot.com.au/2012/10/the-next-big-thing.html

Richard Bon: http://richardbon.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-next-big-thing.html

Shane Simmons: http://scribblingsimmons.wordpress.com/

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

> Language > Place - for Thursday 20th January 2011

I Swear
by Matt Potter

I heard people, when I was living in Germany, swearing in English, when they would never swear auf Deutsch.
I once heard a woman when I was living in Hamburg in 2008, in her 50’s or perhaps early 60’s, say “Shit!” as she jumped on a train. Then listening to her conversation soon after, it became quite clear the few words in English she knew and used were all swear words.
Often the first words we learn in new languages are swear words. Sometimes this is amusing. Sometimes it’s not.
Swearing and cursing (are they the same?) hold different places in different languages. It is definitely worse to swear in German, or rather, in German culture, than it is in English-language cultures, in general.
Certainly it’s worse to swear in Germany than it is in Australia.
I swear quite a lot, at times, and often don’t even know I’m doing it. I would talk with Australian friends in Germany and we would be having a normal conversation, and German friends would look at us askance. The swearing peppering our conversation was just normal for us. Others thought we were angry. Or uncouth. Or maybe both.
In some languages swearing is always used when angry. In Australia, and perhaps in other English language cultures, this is not always the case. It would not be that unusual for me to say to an Australian friend – in Australia or in Germany – Can you pass me that shit, please? Which actually means, Can you pass me that thing?
Hence the askance looks.
I actually love using swear words in their proper context. Shit when you are talking about defecating; cock when you talk about penises; fuck when you talk about sex. (Half the Americans have stopped reading by now.) In these examples, you are actually using these words correctly.
(I once went on radio – admittedly community radio, a gay and lesbian cultural show – when I worked in the HIV / AIDS sector in Australia, and without even realising it, talked about fucking while on air. I used it to mean penetrative anal sex, which is the term used in the sector, in brochures, in leaflets, in campaign materials, in advertising, in fact, whenever HIV / AIDS prevention is mentioned. The presenter went white and off-air seconds later, told me I had said fucking on-air. My first thought was “And? …” … and then I realised. And then I thought, well, too fucking bad, if you want to get all prissy about it, good luck to you! No one complained about it later. And the world kept turning.)
And bilingual Germans will quickly tell you that yes, it is worse to swear in German than in English. Saying Schei├čekopf is worse than saying Shithead. Formal politeness is revered in Germany. This stiffness often gets me down. It means nothing – or little – and seems to be just another shield for Germans to hide behind. It’s not really about how others regard you, but instead about not allowing them to get to know you.
What I would really love to do is to take a poll in Germany. Which is worse: Du bist eine alte Fotze? Or, Sie sind eine alte Fotze?
Du bist is the familiar form of you are.
Sie sind is the polite form of you are.
So, if you were talking to an old woman on the street you did not know, you would normally say, Sie sind.
And just so you know, eine alte Fotze means an old cunt.
So which is worse, saying You are an old cunt using the familiar ‘you’ (du) or saying You are an old cunt using the polite ‘you’ (Sie)? Discuss.
(I think you can argue either way.)
Calling someone an old cunt in Australia is offensive too – actually, you can’t say much worse – BUT the word cunt can be used in an affectionate way. “Ah, she can be a bit of a cunt, but she’s okay.” It’s like saying, “He’s an old bastard, but I love him anyway.”
Of course, the circles in which you can say this – and in which it’s taken the right way – are limited. But it is possible.
I once spent thirty minutes of an English lesson teaching the various meanings of the word ‘fuck’. I was teaching Business English to a small work group in Berlin in 2009 – actually, I loathe teaching Business English, as usually it’s just made up on the spot, and so often taught by others who have absolutely no experience in the world beyond studying and teaching – and the youngest and hippest of the group of six men said, when talking about playing hockey, “That was before I fucked up my knee.”
I said, “You used the word fucked.”
The room went silent as the six men looked at me, wondering where I was going with this.
Fuck is a very versatile word, and we use it all the time in English, so let’s talk about how it’s used,” I said.
There may have been some blanched looks, there may have been some glottal gulps, but we talked about it anyway.
And its uses are varied and deep:
* as a verb, and especially as a phrasal verb – I am fucking, I am being fucked, Fuck me!, I’ve just been fucked, we fucked on the bed, I fucked it up, you fucked it up, I’m being fucked over, he’s fucking me over, I’m fucked off, I am so fucked up, Fuck off!
* as a noun – I need a fuck, that fuck was great, he’s a great fuck, he’s a real fucker!
* as an adjective – I’m a fucking arsehole, you’re a fucking arsehole, hand me that fucking thing, it’s a fucking nightmare, you’re a fucking mess, I don’t need that fucking shit, I’m fucked, that’s fucked, we’re all fucked, it’s just fucked, we’re all going to hell in a fucking handbasket!
‘To fuck’ auf Deutsch is ficken. And German-language online profiles will sometimes have the words Fick mich! (Fuck me!) on them, but interestingly, if the person with the profile speaks and writes English – which many, many do – they will usually use fuck and not ficken. There’s something open and gaping and sexy about the ‘u’ sound in fuck that is absent in ficken. ‘U’ sounds more like an orifice.
So, when I am swearing my head off and not even knowing I am doing so, I feel most at home in Australia. And while it is fun to shock Germans with my swearing proficiency, auf Deutsch und auf Englisch – okay, I rarely say cunt, because (1) it really is offensive and (2) I’ve never actually been there – it is nice to be not so soundly, roundly judged for the disgusting words coming out of your mouth.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

> Language > Place - for Saturday 15th January 2011

after this post was created for > Language > Place, I emailed the link ... and was advised that it didn't really fit the criteria, and would I like to write a new post. So I did - it's the post above - which is good because I also got the date of the blog release wrong!
by Matt Potter

I have just started a website. Actually it’s my second. I have three blogs too, though one is not used (I don’t know how to delete it), one is used (though not as a blog blog, but just for story challenges … like this), and the third is lost somewhere, having never really been born. (I abandoned it – not knowing how to delete it – and then set up my first website instead.)
So my past and present are littered with e-detritus. There is a purpose to all those I use, and that is, basically, promoting my own stories.
Although the most recent website, set up in early December 2010, was established to promote the works of other writers. I started it because (1) I was bored and thought it might be fun, (2) I have confidence in my own taste, and (3) I was pissed off with other fiction site editors who give no or almost no feedback when emailing you with the bad news: We can’t use your story. Or We don’t like your story. Or Your story is not for us. Or … well, you know the drill.
So I always give feedback, even about the stories I don’t like or feel are ‘not for us’. Always.
Anyway, it is much more work than I expected but the site has expanded exponentially which, if you knew me in person, you would have expected.
You can find the website by googling Pure Slush or Pure Slush fiction.
The Pure Slush tagline is flash … without the wank. If you don’t know what wank is, in this context, it means crap, or shit, or spin. I get tired of artistic, creative spin, and there does seem to be a lot of it in the flash fiction e-world. (To find out more about wank, once you have googled Pure Slush or Pure Slush fiction, scroll down from About along the top, ’til you get to Slush / Wank and click.)
There seemed to be a frisson of excitement amongst a small, small, small part of the flash fiction e-world which yes, actually was exciting, when the site went up on 6 December 2010, some of it because by stating it was anti-wank, therefore I was also declaring that some of the stuff out there is wank.
Funnily enough, saying that, in fact, is wanky (or full-of-spin) in itself. Saying Pure Slush is anti-spin, is actually a marketing (spin) tool. Which is amusing and in fact, I love multiple layers of meaning, wheels within wheels, spin on spin on spin sort of thing.
So cut to three weeks later and I decide it’s time to expand my e-empire and for Pure Slush to publish e-non-fiction too. So enter Real Time, the non-fiction offshoot. (Go to Pure Slush then click on Real Time.)
I know a lot of people all over the world now, having lived an expat life for the last three northern summers in Berlin, a city full of expats. And it’s so easy keeping in touch with them now via Facebook and emails, and given time zones, Australia is about a third of the world away from the west coast of the U.S., and a third of the world away from Europe. It works well.
So I have asked a slew of people to write non-fiction pieces for Pure Slush, and everyone has said yes so far. Who would say no, it’s so intensely flattering?! I know this when I ask people, and they probably know this too but it’s fun and it’s win – win and we all walk away (or turn our computers off) happy, egos stroked.
I have a tendency to remember people’s own stories – the quirky, the intimate, the sexy, the sad (which is flattering in itself) – so e-approaching people to write their own stories is a cert.
Here are some of the ideas I have proposed. I asked:
a friend of Austrian-German parentage who was born in British Columbia to write about being educated in a French-language school as a child.
a friend to write about the differing cultural experiences of having been married to an Italian woman (his ex-wife) and an American (his wife).
another friend to write about the English books she was given as a child, while growing up in East Germany, by the American husband of a West German relative.
and then to write about moving to Sheffield, England … and then again about observing the differing experiences of her new step-children, growing up in northern England compared to East Germany … and yet again about showing them Berlin. (Phew! She is busy!)
an acquaintance to write about being a bilingual comic – can you tell the same joke the same way in different languages, and expect or get the same reaction?
a writer already on the site, to write about why he left the States to live in Mexico … and what keeps him there.
and another writer already on the site re the same, except she lives in Canada.
an opera singer friend to write about performing in small German opera companies, and how does that compare to … well, anything.
a translator / interpreter / sub-titler friend to write about her job, particularly when dealing with legal bureaucracies: she has a great story about Swedish campers and an African who was knifed.
an Italian friend to write about being a renegade woman of a certain social standing living in Italy … or about the relationship she has to the US mid-West, years ago when she first went there as an exchange student, and recently, when she returned again, this time for a funeral.
I am still thinking of new non-fiction ideas, and digging friends up … so, if you are a friend of mine (or can pass for one) and have a multilingual / multicultural story to tell that is quite possibly amusing, revealing or both, email me at edpureslush@live.com.au … and let me know.

Friday, December 3, 2010

F3 - from Friday 3rd December 2010

Highway Robbery
by Matt Potter

by Sally Royalton Manning,
Swampville Sentinel Social Affairs Reporter

“We’re really against big government,” says Francine Bellweather McGrew–McGraw, sitting in her home office on leafy Elm Street, in one of Swampville’s quieter northern neighbourhoods. “So we felt kind of vindicated when we got their letter.”
Mrs McGrew–McGraw, a pretty forty-nine year old blonde who realized only last week she forgot to have children – “I looked out into the back yard and saw my biological clock rusting under the sycamore tree,” she explains – is facing a tough decision: leave the neighbourhood she and husband Bud (51) have called home for the past twenty years, or move to a strange district where the neighbours won’t share their history, may call them names, and will probably eat them.
“The government is building an east-west interstate highway right through my office here at home,” she says, sitting before a wall decorated with dozens of home creative writing certificates, and choking as she speaks.
But no amount of certificates for good grammar and grate speling can stop the wheels of progress now. A black line painted through the middle of the room marks where a gaping hole will soon appear.
“The interstate’s going to split this room in half, and they’ve given us a month to decide what we’ll do.”
Mrs McGrew–McGraw, who models airplanes in her spare time and is one of Swampville’s busiest amateur homemakers, is keen on keeping the southern half of their ranch home and selling the northern half after the enforced split.
“We were thinking of maybe selling it to a time-share resort concern, now that commuting from downtown will be cut down to thirty minutes once the interstate is built.”
But Mrs McGrew–McGraw says she and husband Bud are not certain about staying in the neighbourhood now, despite the worrying news of rising cannibal attacks against newcomers in nearby areas.
“We’d move out of Swampville, but all our friends and family are here,” she says. (Mrs McGrew–McGraw is the middle daughter of Lloyd C. Bellweather Jr., two-time Mayor of Swampville, and the late Belle “Ringading” Rambeau Bellweather, five-time homecoming queen.)
“But we also don’t like the idea of living across the highway from a string of sushi bars either,” Mrs McGrew–McGraw says, popping more popcorn into the microwave for local chipmunks. “We’re a little worried what the smell of chicken grease will do to property prices.”
But to raise awareness of their plight in the hope that others may see the warning signs earlier than she and her husband did, Mrs McGrew–McGraw, who has proudly never paid taxes except once when under the influence of an evil accountant, has announced that she and her Marketing Manager husband will hold a garage sale.
“Well, I say garage sale,” she says, sorting through boxes in readiness for the big day this Saturday, husband Bud too sick in the hospital with bronchitis, galloping pneumonia and a phlegmy tongue to help. “But Bud, poor guy, stuck on Ward C and feeling miserable with three tubes coming out of his ass, says yard sale. Though I’m organising it so it’s a garage sale, even though most of it will be in the yard.”
Mrs McGrew–McGraw promises earlybirds can pick up many bargains.
“I’m selling some great openings to stories,” says the shy activist and part-time author, who also plans to sell cookies, cupcakes and political placards to help fund their move into state politics and turn the tide on big government.
“I’ve never been that great with middles and endings, but I’m a real wiz with story openings.”
As a measure of the quality of Mrs McGrew–McGraw’s story writing talents, ten story openings are listed below. These along with other story openings, home-baked cookies, cupcakes, placards, buttons and other delights, will be available at the garage sale, which starts at 7.30am this Saturday, at 2800 Elm Street.

Francine McGrew–McGraw’s story openings.
All offers over $10.00 will be considered.

• By the time I’ve made myself an eight course Chinese banquet, I really can’t be bothered making someone else the same …
• Polyester is a great leveller …
He was a pie-eyed albino horse with a stutter and he answered to the name ‘Future Glue’ …
She was on the fast track to celibacy …
I knew her face but not her hair, at least not the right way up …
She wanted another liver reading …
My nose was a mess of pimples and that’s not a good way to enter any country, including Liechtenstein …
“It’s not often I’m nice,” I said. “So just accept it, you cunt.” …
The Swampville Sentinel believes this last story opening may offend some readers, so Mrs McGrew–McGraw is happy to offer it at a twenty percent discount, if you or your publisher, agent or editor don’t care for four letter words.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

> Language > Place - for Wednesday 15th December 2010

Dyeing for it
by Matt Potter

I do not know how many t-shirts I own, because I own so many. Some are in boxes in my mother’s garage in Adelaide, some are in boxes in a storage facility (also in Adelaide), and still others – some on high and some on low rotation – hang in a wardrobe in what is referred to as the spare room, the back room, Matt’s room and Map’s room, again in Adelaide. (My partner’s grandchildren – my step-grandchildren, two and three years old – call me Map.)
This room is in my partner’s home.
One reason I have so many t-shirts is that, having lived through seven summers in a row – southern summer, northern summer, southern, northern, southern, northern, and now southern again – I’ve had constant need of a few t-shirts.
Many of them are Bonds t-shirts, 100% cotton – Bonds is a household name in Australia – and actually made to wear as underclothes but bought by me, and some others, to be worn out, and were originally white. And all of them, the white ones, have been dyed other colours – orange, red, yellow, blue, purple, pink, green, even brown – in different shades and designs, most plain but some quite intricate.
They take the dye perfectly.
I’ve been dyeing for years. It’s a shortcut to creativity and it’s almost instant – truly, you just add water! – and on a day that’s dry and windy enough, the t-shirt is dyed, washed, and on the street in just a few hours. (Once, years ago, I almost blew up my parents’ new verandah following my dyeing muse, but that, leider, is another story.)
In Australia I favour Dylon dyes – an hour in hot, hot tap water, stirred a lot with added salt – and in Germany I favour Simplicol dyes, some of which I even ordered over the internet, auf Deutsch, which was risky. (What happens if I misunderstood the German and ordered a truckload of dye? I also first did this Deutsch internet-ordering while in Australia, so that they would arrive soon after I re-arrived in Berlin … again.)
These Simplicol dyes I’ve used in the frontloading washing machine, water as hot as possible, with lots of salt, and a bleach chaser. (The chaser is for the washing machine, not for the t-shirt or even for me.)
What I love most about these German dye-jobs is (1) there is a large range of colours to choose from, especially on the internet, and (2) I never look like anyone else in Germany when I wear them because they’re Bonds t-shirts, posted or shipped from Australia. So I can swan about Berlin feeling unique and gorgeous – few, few people in Germany wear anything more than dull, dull colours – and when back in Australia, I can swan around telling people I’m wearing t-shirts dyed using German dyes – deutsche Farben – on an Australian canvas (which is not just the t-shirt, but also me).
Some of these t-shirts are true trans-global warriors, having crossed between Australia and Germany and Australia and Germany a few times now.
I love them all, international trendsetters, beacons of colour – and I hope some style – especially on days when I, and perhaps others, need a colour boost.
I am often complimented on these t-shirts, in both countries, because some of them really are show-stoppers, blocks of rioting colour, tight and slutty.
And whichever country I’m in – Germany or Australia – they connect me to the one where I’m not.
And I love the idea that multiculturalism – or is it duoculturalism? – is alive and well and on my back.