John Bartlett

Avalon Airport – Another Layer Of History

Posted by on 7:16 pm in Blog | 1 comment

Avalon Airport – Another Layer Of History

I’m contemplating my role as writer-in-residence at Geelong’s Avalon airport: Airports for me are like enormous, concentrated airlocks between two separate realities where the traveler enters a sort of in-between world of heightened emotion. Here feelings are concentrated by the arrival or departure of loved-ones or of at the prospect of our own journey. There’s an atmosphere of a last minute mad scramble as passengers glue themselves to i-phones and laptops, condemned to be soon out of touch from the real world for the duration of their...

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Awaiting Takeoff

Posted by on 7:15 pm in Blog | 0 comments

Awaiting Takeoff

This morning I have an appointment at Avalon Airport to discuss the writer in residence project with Tess Cameron, Business Development Manager for the airport, the Victorian Premier, Ted Baillieu reckons international flights here will be a certainty. Tiger Airways evidently is looking for a second home base when it recently announced it was adding more than 380,000 seats on existing routes from Melbourne to Sydney, Gold Coast, Brisbane and Perth. However, when I enter the departure lounge it feels like Baillieu’s message has got lost in...

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Smiling Assassins part 1

Posted by on 7:13 pm in Blog | 0 comments

Smiling Assassins part 1

On January 9th 2012, Pope Benedict announced that homosexuality represents “policies which undermine the family threaten human dignity and the future of humanity itself,” It’s clearly time to conduct an investigation into one of the last bastions against same-sex rights, namely organised religion and whether religion will ever get over its sexual hang-ups. ‘If you are with a group of people and a woman happens to fall over, let somebody else pick her up; it’s much safer.’ This is how I recall the bizarre advice given to us by our Moral...

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Smiling Assassins part 2

Posted by on 7:12 pm in Blog | 0 comments

Smiling Assassins  part 2

My search took me to St Kilda, ironically the suburb to which I’d fled after leaving the Church in the 1980s to test out my own homosexuality. He was even living in the same area I had, near the end of Acland Street with its shop windows overflowing with cakes belching cream and the gay nightclubs of those years, pre AIDS, crammed with men, dancing all night under lurid disco lights. (Sometimes I wonder if there are ley lines that attract gay men to that suburb.) Ahmad, whose name means ‘worthy of praise’, lives with his partner in an...

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