Paul Insect

Amazing artist

  © Paul Insect

Carnivals and Cotton Candy

Caravan Palace: Je m'amuse

Foster the People: Love

Wolf Gang: The King and All of His Men

Boy & Bear: Golden Jubilee

Gotye: State of the Art

Jinja Safari: Forest Eyes

Massive Attack: Paradise Circus

The Shins: Phantom Limb

Wolf Gang: Back to Back

Florence and the Machine: Lover to Lover

Foster the People: Houdini

Gypsy & The Cat: Parallel Universe

The Storm's Set

He could hear nothing while the storm lasted, everything blotted 

out by the steady drumming of rain on the iron roof, and the 

intermittent screech of floorboards. The trees thrashed about in a 

choreography of pain and desire, whilst the..

Fuck. I tore the page from the spiral bound notebook and threw 

the attempt into the bin, having it join the previous three, an 

empty tube of block-out and quite unabashedly, a few tissues.  

I'm not stupid. I get that this assessment accounts for 25% of my 

mark, but my summer holidays are meant to be about music and 

sleep. Not...this. 

I wish I was a wizard. Fuck vampires. Who cares if you can bite 

someone if you can fly a broom? When I turned 11, I seriously 

waited all day for my letter from Hogwarts. I didn't tell anyone 

because you know, I was 11 and meant to be grown up, but I 

waited. I even thought because I lived in Australia, it would 

come a few days late. Six years later and  I'm still waiting for 

that letter, plus the magic it will bring. I'm an all right 

looking guy, I guess. Not that magic could fix that, but still. 

It's just I'm average. I get good grades. I have friends. And I 

don't wear my pants around my ankles, but like I said. I'm 

average. Not the life of the party, the guy who has all the 

latest indie music or the one that girls fall over. In fact I 

have yet to even ask Norah out. I like Vampire Weekend, I buy my 

clothes at op-shops, and I have an unhealthy collection of 

waistcoats. 

“No way, Ron is way better then Harry!”

“No. You're wrong. That's all there is to it' I shot back.  Nate 

and I were waiting beyond the corner of the gig for his new 

boyfriend. Probably some buff bohemian boy whose 'soul was in 

line with my heart'. Over the past nine months, ever since Nate 

came out to his parents, he's had over 5 'long-term' 

relationships.  

One of the things that fascinate me about myself is how it is 

possible for me to know something without really knowing it at 

all. I mean I seem to have known about same sex relationships all 

my life, without anyone ever sitting me down and saying 'Luke, in 

life people can choose to love whoever they want', or some such 

inadequately phrased part of the 'talk'. And it didn't 

particularly surprise me when Nate officially came out either. 

Since we were kids I knew he wasn't into girls the way I was. 

Just like when he tried to kiss me in second grade he

knew I wasn't into guys like he was. But it wasn't until 1this 

year when he actually spoke the words to me 'Luke, I think you 

already know, but I'm gay' and  I said. 'Yeah. I kinda figured.'  

With each guy Nate's been with, he adapts to them. Becomes the 

couple that looks good together. Yet every time he always stays 

the same guy. Astounding.  I wish I'd change. I constantly 

attempt too, but all shit breaks loose. Peoples opinions will 

always stay the same. Unless its bad. There's a reason rumours 

and gossip and false shit gets around. Everyone wants to believe 

in something horrifying rather than 'all we did was kiss'. 

Because as soon as that happens, BAM, the girls a slut and the 

guys a hero. And Nothing will change that. So I'm stuck as the 

kid who cried when Piggy died,  because people don't want to 

believe that I might have changed. Even though I haven't.

So there we were, waiting for the buff boy toy before attempting 

to enter the Ivory while the bouncers were still AWOL to see The 

Storm. Being 17 sucked balls. The guy collecting entrance fee at 

the door was a craggy old-timer who wouldn't care if a 5 year old 

walked in. I delved into my pocket and scrabbled with some loose 

change for a little, then handed him a 20 and extended my wrist 

to get stamped and collect the tenor back. 'Dude, it says 10 

bucks, not 15. Where's my change?' I asked crag-bags.  He just 

smiled and winked, the short changing bastard. 

The bar was dark and smoky. Perfect really. See here's another 

thing you should know, I'm big on atmospheres. Certain ones in 

particular draw me in. Cafes with old beaten couches, or 

bookshops with dinky steps, crammed to within an inch of its 

life. The bar wasn't the superficial strobe-lit kind, rather the 

walls had paint peeling back, revealing every colour and past it 

had. Yellow; boutique, Red; tattooist, Green; an old crack house. 

It was these places, with history that I felt at home. The 

atmosphere you experience when you're a kid and its Christmas 

eve; anticipation and excitement. This felt like that. The magic 

of the lights, the crackle of the speakers. And the gaze of the 

girl in the corner. Did I mention Norah? I've been in love with 

her since year 4, when she read her mermaid poem out in class. 

Since then I've been in deep. Breath. in and out. And in and out. 

'Excuse me, Norah? Would, um, would you like to dance?'

A small smile in the corner of her mouth. ' I'd thought you'd 

never ask.'

I could hear nothing while the Storm's set lasted, everything 

blotted out by the steady thump of  the bass. And in those 

electrifying moments, when Norah looked at me, I understood that 

it didn't matter if the masses don't believe that you can change, 

because one person will. 

So we danced. And Laughed, and drank, until the beauty of the 

moment overwhelmed the fuck out of me and I needed some air. Then 

we climbed the stairs, and the city watched us kiss.