William Balme: A writer who sips tea and watches life waltz by in London. projectthirty30@gmail.com

'I’m a worrier. And I’m vulnerable and fragile. But all that worry fuels my tank, enriches my existence and turns me into this creature with plastic wings and a bruised and battered helmet. A worrier with a story, lessons to learn and teach, tears to be shed, smiles to be shared, clichés to spout and a long, long list of apologies to be made. This life is our fatal flaw, and that worries me. But I’ll be okay for now. I haven’t self-combusted today, I haven’t run out of peanut butter, I haven’t been hit by a car… And I suppose that kind of makes me worry a little less… Then I realise I’ve started a sentence with the word and. In a way, there’s a kind of reckless beauty to that.'

We need empathy and effort, not snide comments.

‘Good drugs. Clinical Depression on Tuesday, training on Thursday.’ This was a tweet written by the Chief Football Writer of the Herald Sun on Thursday morning in reference to Collingwood’s Alex Fasolo, who took a week off to deal with depression in Collingwood’s previous fixture. This isn’t a ‘Nat Fyfe (Knee): one week injury’. This is an entire shift in…

From the Standing Room II: The ‘Bip! Bop! Boom! Powell! Pepper!, Nank the Tank, Elliot YEEEEEEOWWWWWW and Boom Boom Boom, lemme hear ya say Heppell! (HEPPELL!)’ Edition.

If I have learnt anything from the first two rounds of the AFL season, it is this. 1. The AFL and road testing the practicality of rules do not go like vodka and caffeine mixed into a chilled martini glass. There’s nothing Gil and co love more than throwing the game into mania by catapulting a bunch of clarifications, adjustments…

From the Standing Room: The ‘Gimme the Fyfe, the overreliance argument and There’s now only one half of Tony Lockett’ Round 1 edition

FOOTY IS BACK! Luke Hodge dislikes training, Joel Selwood attempted to duck through a freeway at David Wojcinski speed and Nat Fyfe is captain – and bloody unsigned! Yet another fascinating season is on the cards, and this time, I’m not packing my shit up to leave for London. I’m here, I like ba-heer and I wish Collingwood still had…

Ten things I’ve learnt from my Quarter Life Crisis.

I was going to call this, ‘I had a quarter life meltdown so you didn’t have to’, but that sounds straight out of the whirlpool of provocative VICE articles that you inevitably read but wish you could have those 10 minutes back immediately following. I thought I should write this as I sit at Heathrow airport waiting for my plane.…

Willie Bee’s 103 for TWO ZERO SIXTEEN.

Music is my saviour. Without debate, 2016 has been an unbelievably bizarre year. From Donald Trump (DONALD FUCKING TRUMP) forcing his way into the Oval Office to Aleppo burning before our very eyes to Britain flipping off Europe, politically it has been entrancing; enraging many and enveloping all our futures into a little bottle, thrown on the ground and stood…

Dear Anxiety #7: skattered.

The following is a series of letters I wrote to ‘my anxiety’ over the past three months in London. This is the seventh and final letter of this letter series. Whilst I don’t feel completely comfortable sharing this due to the sensitive nature of the material, I believe that sharing one’s experience of a mental disorder is illuminating for others,…