Open mic in a chilly city

Canberra might be the national capital, with the numerous major national cultural institutions this entails, but as befits a medium-sized university city, it has a lively local cultural scene as well. Amongst that heady mix is Smiths Alternative, a venue, ostensibly a bookshop and bar, that puts on everything under the sun - from bands to burlesque, from craft to poetry. As a result I found myself there on a chilly winter night for the open mic poetry reading. In parallel with a long career in the arts and culture sector over many decades, I have also produced a substantial creative writing output throughout my life. This has ranged across articles, short stories, installations, songs, websites and digital media, but my all-time favourite is poetry.

Over the last two decades, as publishing outlets have diminished, I have turned my attention to focus on my extensive suite of blogs. The main one, indefinite article, publishes irreverent articles about contemporary Australian society, popular culture, the creative economy and the digital and online world – life in the trenches and on the beaches of the information age. 

Reading on stage at Smiths Alternative.

This is complemented by balloon, which floats thought bubbles for our strange and unsettled times – short quirky articles about the eccentricities of everyday life, almost always with a sense of short black humour; handwriting which sprays homegrown graffiti from the digital world – writing, rhyming and digital animations, including my extensive travel writing; tableland, about food, produce and cooking, land to table – the daily routine of living in the high country, on the edge of the vast Pacific, just up from Sydney, just down from Mount Kosciuszko

More recently this has been supplemented by travelling light, a personal view of the light – and sometimes heavier – matters that come up in daily life and make us sit up and take notice, whether travelling, coming home or thinking about travelling.

I have also branched out, with a presence on popular writers outlet, Substack, where I also publish my 'indefinite article' material.

A poet at 50

Despite all the articles, my true love is poetry. In an earler life, one of the things I was responsible for was the Prime Ministers Literary Awards. Luke Davies, better known for Candy, the movie starring Heath Ledger, is at heart a poet. He took out the inaugural Award for Poetry. In accepting the Award he noted that if you are a poet when you are 20, it’s because you are 20, but if you are a poet when you are 50, it’s because you are a poet.

With this in mind, my latest foray into the world of public art was a short reading at the regular open mic poetry night at Smiths Alternative in Civic in the heart of Canberra's wintry city. Because it was the King's birthday, the theme of the evening was 'republic'. I like to think that all my writing is about re-public – taking back the private spaces stolen by privatisation and neo-liberalism and placing creativity and culture where they belong – in the public sphere.

However, at the event I introduced my reading by saying 'I see that the theme tonight is 'republic'. Given how the world’s best-known republic is turning out, I think I’ll just move quickly past that, with only a brief reference.' I then read three pieces that were mostly not about 'republic' at all.

Booing Vice-President Vance
The treason songs of my youth
        are echoing in my head

recalling the dum dum bullets of history

the secret republic of lead

a new Olympic sport has appeared
booing the Vice-President

       meanwhile
the barbarians are studying history
and learning Latin

More happy and more succinct
Requested to describe her state of mind
my ageing mother-in-law
replied ‘happy’

Asked to supply more detail
she added

‘very happy’

As she became older
she became both more happy
and more succinct

In concluding my set I introduced the last piece of writing I read, 'I’d like to finish with a poem that used to be a song from when I – like everyone else at some stage in their life – was in a band. The band is gone, but the words are still here.'

Distant Relations
Went to a party
everyone was
smiles
spaced out on valium
& linoleum tiles

everyone knew someone
and someone knew them
romance, quiet dance
bourbon and gin

once we were lovers
now we're just friends
distant relations
in your bed

young boys meet young girls
then they have kids
pay bills, make wills
play losing bids

once we were lovers
now we're just friends
distant relations
in your bed

fast cars, slow glance
no fancy frills
take a chance, move fast
it's not speed that kills

once we were lovers
now we're just friends
distant relations
in your bed

distant relations
in your bed

© Stephen Cassidy 2026

See also   

Island on fire
‘On an island you’re never far from the sea – that is unless the island is huge, like Australia. In tiny Tasmania, perched like an afterthought at the foot of Australia, even the mountains in the centre are not far from the ocean raging around them – just as in the distant homeland from which those who settled it came. On the main island, though, everywhere is a long way from everywhere else. Two islands, very different in size, in many ways with both similar and different histories. Both on fire. But this not just about the fires – it’s about what happened in front of the fire, the life lived in a time of warming and burning, even if it sometimes felt like a rehearsal for the end of the world’, Island on fire.

I smoke baby cigars
‘Smoking baby cigars in the dark of the backyard. Like some Cuban presidente haranguing the crowd with reminders, I proffer a list of romantic anniversaries, our May 4th movement, our July 12th uprising – our moment when everything became new’, I smoke baby cigars.

Cut back to black
‘Cut back to black, thin chill drizzle mid-winter – infinite regression on petrol’. Also called ‘Revhead heaven’, Cut back to black.

Coming back to these stones
‘Coming back to these stones – in the sandy dry reaches of the Coorong in South Australia’s South East birds flicker across the flat water like beads of run-away mercury’, Coming back to these stones.

Landscapes in a rear vision mirror
‘Heading at a moment's notice into Broken Hill, breaking several traffic laws on the Barrier Highway, in the rear vision mirror the land kept switching colours’, Landscapes in a rear vision mirror.

Stopping by Lake George

‘Lake George is a vast stretching freshwater lake, with no outlet. It is only diminished by evaporation. Many stories are told about Lake George, a still point of the turning earth, with all the quiet of the eye at the centre of a hurricane’, Stopping by Lake George.See other work from the Conversations group exhibition, Goulburn Regional Art Gallery, 2004 – a collaborative exhibition of writers and visual artists.

State of origin
Multimedia piece developed with visual artist, Deborah Faeyrglenn, State of origin looked at where we come from, where we go next and where we truly belong. In this work the writer and visual artist combined word, image and computer technology to make visual music. Words and images moved across the computer screen, with no fixed address, State of origin.

The lost art of conversation
Installation, developed with visual artist, Deborah Faeyrglenn, on words, meaning, reflection and infinite (or at least, partial) regression. Three tall thin vertical mirrors stand against the wall, covered in bursts of words. Three matching paper shadows flow out from the wall along the floor. Words on the mirrors flutter and blur into shadows, The lost art of conversation.

balloon
A fictional narrative work in the form of a website, the website as writing. About the adventures of a refugee from the big city who sets up the High Country Thought Balloon Company. A series of brief vignettes about the characters, situations and stories which intersect the path of the balloons as they soar across the skies of the Southern Tablelands and Snowy region. It is about changing perspective, balloon.

Malacoota Inlet
‘Shutdown in a flat, wet land, the line beween sea and sky where grey meets grey, where stricken yachts come in’, Malacoota Inlet.

Sitting on twigs
‘Sitting on twigs in the flat lands, in a piece of country loaded with meaning, like a tightly coiled spring’, Sitting on twigs.

Signature of water
A series of artworks as part of the Waterworks exhibition at Goulburn Regional Art Gallery responding to the shared task of facing up to life on our dry continent. It ranged from short, minimalist animations, using cartoons, to hyperfiction drawing on the styles of crime novels. It was a mix of poetry, storytelling, images and sounds which were heavily influenced by the styles of popular culture and the urban and rural landscapes around us, Signature of water.

'travelling light' – the full and final set in my suite of social media blogs

Today I launch 'travelling light', a final, fifth blog to add to my suite of four blogs on Blogger. For 16 years I published almost 300 articles there, with some articles posted on earlier outlets for closer to 22 years. 'travelling light' is different to all of these – not serious articles about creativity and culture, not humorous snippets, not creative and travel writing and not articles about food and cooking. It is a personal view of the light – and sometimes heavier – matters that come up in daily life and make me sit up and take notice, whether travelling or staying put.

Travelling light completes the set. My main blog is indefinite article, which I describe as irreverent writing about contemporary Australian society, popular culture, the creative economy and the digital and online world – life in the trenches and on the beaches of the information age. balloon is collection of short humorous articles, thought balloons for our strange and unsettled times – brief quirky articles about the eccentricities of everyday life, almost always with a sense of short black humour. handwriting, homegrown graffiti from the digital world – writing, rhyming and digital animations, is creative writing, including a series of seven articles about travel. Lastly tableland is about food, produce and cooking, land to table – the daily routine of living in the high country, on the edge of the vast Pacific, just up from Sydney, just down from Mount Kosciuszko.

Settled into a National Trust former fishing cottage at Port Quin on the Cornwall Atlantic coast in 2019.

Rationalising outlets

I have been rationalising some of my social media outlets and starting to place material on Substack, which has a different purpose to Blogger. I publish to both outlets, sometimes posting on both, with some cross-referencing. My most recent travel article on the 'handwriting' blog, which is about France, is part of a series of articles also called 'travelling light', in keeping with the same theme as this blog.

Travelling light – La Belle France: Paris, Lyon and Provence 2018

Having largely, though not completely, abandoned the world of work, my fellow traveller and I decided to make the most of the opportunity to roam while we could. After our regional road tour through Victoria to Adelaide for my mother’s 90th birthday,and a brief jaunt to Sydney and the Southern Highlands, we embarked on the next big excursion – our trip to the Northern part of the South of France. It was to be our very own contribution to the long tradition of the Grand Tour.

We seemed to be on a roll. After not travelling internationally together for eight years after our trips to Austria, Germany and France in 2005 and 2006, we went to Tahiti in 2014, then New Zealand in 2016 and finally undertook a longer expedition – to Scotland and Northern England in 2017. Somewhere in there I was sent to Fiji by work for a regional UNESCO meeting, but there had been a sparse few years as far as international roaming was concerned.

Making the most of it before we got too old – or before the world became too crowded
Now we were on the road again – making the most of it before we got too old – or maybe before the world became too crowded. This time we were off to Paris and Lyon and northern Provence, where temperatures had reached 38 degrees Celsius the previous day – it was just like flying into Adelaide.

 

Hanging out in Saint-Germain

Our trips to New Zealand in late 2016 and to Scotland and Northern England in August and September 2017 seemed to have involved lots of driving and many short term stays of two to three days – never enough to really see a place. On the first day you arrive, on the third you leave, so it leaves only one full day to get to know a place. If you are only staying for two nights, or even worse, one, you see hardly anything. The trouble was that we hadn’t been to New Zealand for more than a few days, and never to Scotland or Northern England, so seeing the country involved roaming widely – and even then, we only saw part of it.

Travelling light – along the Rhine and beyond 2024

Travel during the global pandemic had become an artform. After our first ever cruise, from London to Bergen, via North Cape, way above the Arctic Circle, in 2019, we decided to try something very different – a river cruise. We chose a short week-long one from Amsterdam up the Rhine to Basel in Switzerland. Due to the pandemic, this was postponed several times and then finally converted to a cruise in local waters, when Viking started to operate from Australia. It was then postponed again, before we finally sailed. Apart from the many attractions of travelling the length of the Rhine, the trip meant that I saw two cities in two countries I had never seen before – Amsterdam in the Netherlands and Basel in Switzerland.

At the start of 2023, my fellow traveller and I journeyed on a Viking ocean cruise from Sydney to Auckland. It was only our second Viking cruise. Almost three and a half years after our first, and until then, only cruise – from London to Norway in 2019 – it finally happened.

On our return from New Zealand we immediately rebooked the original river cruise for 2024 and persuaded two friends to join us. We’d had years to research it, so we knew exactly what we wanted. Before we knew it we were on our way to join one of the river ships that we had planned to travel on in 2020, four years earlier.

Houses, so familiar from a million films and guidebooks, along the myriad of canals in Amsterdam

Seeing the future
En route from Sydney to Hong Kong, I thought that when you are flying long haul flights, there is a great emphasis on inflight entertainment. For me, I don’t really need it – flying itself is my inflight entertainment. I was also reminded of what I’d said before, when we arrived at Christchurch Airport in 2023, ready to fly home to Sydney – when we walked past the Economy queue for a Qantas flight. Then I suddenly realised that it was not our queue and there was only one single person in the Business Class queue, and there and then I saw my future.

Travelling light – the largest islands in the Pacific 2023

I’ve been to New Zealand only twice – once on a brief stop in Auckland on the way to Tahiti in 2014 and then on a longer trip around the North Island at the end of 2016. On the first trip my fellow traveller was in New Zealand because she wanted to visit Tahiti, whereas I was in Tahiti because I wanted to visit New Zealand - though, mmm, as everyone commented, Tahiti was nice. On the second visit, we had planned to continue on to the South Island – till it became clear this would be biting off more than we could chew. Then, finally, six and a half years later, we were going back to New Zealand – and this time we would visit the South Island. We had sold our house after 12 years and we were on the road again. We were on the train to Sydney. On Tuesday we would board a Viking ship for a two week cruise down the East coast of Australia, across to New Zealand, finishing in Auckland. Then it would be four weeks of trains, ferries and hire cars as we got to know one of our favourite countries even better.

Holed up in Sydney
After our train trip from Canberra to Sydney, we were holed up in the Fullerton Hotel in Martin Place, readying ourselves to board our ship, Viking Mars the next morning. We had been wearing face masks everywhere (probably even more than we usually did at home), because we had to have a negative COVID test within 24 hours of boarding in order to join the cruise. Once we'd had the tests, nothing was going to stop us boarding that ship (except possibly World War III or something of similar magnitude). I’d told everyone I’d be posting commentary and photos regularly for those interested – I’d warned them ‘watch this space’.

Viking Mars anchored in White Bay, alongside Balmain, opposite the Sydney main city centre

While we waited to board our ship for light relief (not to mention food) we went to Bambini Trust Restaurant and Wine Room opposite Hyde Park for lunch. It's an old haunt of ours, where many a dry martini has passed our lips. It's amazing how good zucchini flowers stuffed with four kinds of cheese, spaghettini with prawns and, to finish off, affogato can make you feel – especially with a glass of Gamay. Sigh.

‘The last time we looked out from one of these ships we were staring in amazement at the Norwegian coast. Now we were staring in amazement at Australian shores.’

All aboard – travelling with the descendants of the Vikings

Once I had never been on a cruise and never imagined I would ever go on a cruise. That all changed when I visited Scotland in 2017. I became fascinated by the degree to which Scotland and Northern England were connected to Norway. A cruise to Norway on a Norwegian ship seemed highly appropriate. When I saw Viking Jupiter sitting high on the Thames, waiting for us to board I knew I had to come to the right place. The year before last, in September 2023, having recently returned from what was only my second journey with Viking Cruises, with another one planned the following year, I wanted to send the company some feedback about our experience. This is an expanded version of what I sent them back then, with another cruise under our belt since and a further one booked for 2026. 

At the start of 2023, my fellow traveller and I journeyed on a Viking cruise from Sydney to Auckland. It was the second Viking cruise we have been on, the first a cruise from London to Bergen in 2019. The most recent cruise was originally a river cruise from Amsterdam to Basel which was postponed several times due to the pandemic and then converted to a cruise in local waters. On our return from New Zealand we immediately rebooked the original river cruise for 2024 and persuaded two friends to join us on it.

Viking Jupiter in Geirangerfjord Norway

Getting on board
Once I had never been on a cruise and never imagined I would ever go on a cruise. That all changed when I visited Scotland in 2017. I became fascinated by the degree to which Scotland and Northern England were connected to Norway. We decided we would like to see Orkney and the Shetland Islands and after looking around settled on the Viking cruise. A cruise to Norway on a Norwegian ship seemed highly appropriate.

Travelling light – Into Northern seas: UK, Norway, Denmark and Germany 2019

Neither I nor my fellow traveller had been on a cruise before, but suddenly we were sailing from London to Bergen, retracing the steps of the ancient Vikings. When we were in Scotland in 2017, we became entranced by the centuries of exchange and movement between Northern England and Scotland and Norway. We saw a cruise that travelled from Edinburgh to Bergen and became quite excited about the idea. Before you knew it, we were booked to sail from London to Edinburgh, then across the Norwegian Sea far above the Arctic Circle to the Northern-most tip of Norway before working out way down through the fjords and passages of the Norway coast to Bergen, the second largest city in Norway. We hadn't even been discouraged by the fact that earlier that year another Viking cruise ship was nearly wrecked when one of its engines failed in a huge storm and passengers had to be lifted off by helicopter above raging seas.

‘How’, I asked myself, ‘ did I find myself on the deck of a Viking ship at midnight cruising silently through the night between the towering cliffs of Norwegian fjords? I am still amazed that my fellow traveller and I sailed on our first (hopefully not last) cruise only two years ago – in a very different world to the one we inhabit today, just before world cruising shut down indefinitely. Ironically our first ever cruise was barely six months before the whole cruising universe was turned on its head by the global coronavirus pandemic. Overnight the holiday ships of the cruise industry were transformed into refugee boats that were no longer welcome anywhere.