An ode to my friends

I wrote the following poem as an ode to the three incredible woman in my PhD life. I plan on writing a post about just how important having trusted friends has been throughout this PhD journey. Not only do these women know my academic work well, they also know about my private life, the trials and tribulations of my relationship. As I know about theirs.

I wrote this as the four of us took our selves off on a writing retreat on the east coast of Tasmania. We spent six glorious days writing, talking, drinking gin and tonic, eating incredible food, crying, laughing, walking, skinny dipping, argueing, pontificating, procrastinating, and inspiring.

Language warning on this one!

To my three companians of nerdity:

You say ‘fuck’ a lot.

And shit.

And mother fucker.

You mumble to yourself.

Talk obscurely

To your computer.

You hate post modernists

Effected by affect

And move on.

You stretch

You run

You juggle

You dance

Physically and mentally it seems

We talk over each other

Under each other

With each other

And about each other.


We say:


It’s a discourse analysis

An emergent methodology

With iterative renditions

Of a human-ish ecology


It’s co-productive governance

It’s sharing with your neighbours

It ‘s migrating to the city

It’s colonising favours


‘I think I’m back to Layder’

‘Now don’t you Checkland me!’

‘Do you think your mum would edit?

Nah, only for a fee’


‘Today my data’s useless’

‘I know this writing’s wrong’

Someone mentioned Neighbours

‘No! Don’t sing that fucking song!’


Does co-productive governance,

Have a wanky kind of ring?

Why can’t the other tutors

Just get on with their thing?


Someone is a booze hag

Or that is what they say

But who of us rejects a drink

To finish off the day


The ship it sunk without a trace

I’m feeling quite dejected

I can’t believe with so much work

My paper was rejected


Have you read some of this literature?

I think you’ll find it sweet

How come your methodology

Is so ‘mother fucking’ neat?


Although we all procrastinate

Today I’m doing well

I’m writing freaking poetry

My work has gone to hell.


One response to “An ode to my friends

  1. pure gold. and a certain self-satisfaction in starring in such an accomplished poem.

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