Michael Sun

1 month ago | theguardian.com | Michael Sun

Your first comedy show was called My Favourite Shapes. What is your least favourite shape? A pentagon. Or an octagon. There’s a rigidity to it that I find displacing. What’s the oldest thing you own and why do you still have it? You know, I was just going into what I refer to as the forbidden closet in my apartment, which is just a door that I never open. And I saw in there a picture of the inside of a church that my mother took when she was in college.

1 month ago | theguardian.com | Michael Sun

No one has had a trajectory like Martha Stewart’s. Over a six-decade career, the 83-year-old has been a Chanel model, a Wall Street suit, an American sweetheart, a lifestyle guru, a media tycoon, a convicted felon and a friend to Snoop Dogg. Now she begins her next chapter: a speaker at Vivid Sydney. Vivid – a light festival designed to be hated by anyone who enjoys activities like “walking through a city without being assailed by foot traffic” – has embarked on a booking spree of late.

1 month ago | theguardian.com | Michael Sun

Neil Young has shared his concerns of being barred from the US after his European tour later this year, thanks to his outspoken critiques of Donald Trump. On Tuesday, on his website Neil Young Archives, the 79-year-old musician – who has dual Canadian-American citizenship – wrote of his fears after the recent spate of people being detained and deported upon entering the US.

2 months ago | theguardian.com | Aston Brown |Michael Sun

Guardian Australia's Michael Sun dons his best cowboy fit as he claps and shuffles his way through a session of Saddle Club: a queer line-dancing group in Sydney's inner west, one of the latest in a global phenomenon that has a long history. 'Seeing line dancing have this resurgence [in the US], particularly in a queer space, we were really inspired by that and thought we'd give it a go in Sydney,' Saddle Club co-founder Marzy says

2 months ago | theguardian.com | Michael Sun

It is a humid evening inside a town hall in Sydney’s inner west and my inadequacies are on full display. Signing up for a queer line dancing class was an act of impulsive pluck; actually, being at a queer line dancing class feels like an exercise in public humiliation. On floorboards scuffed by footfall, I am wobbling and staggering to the sinister warble of Sabrina Carpenter. Luckily, there are 99 other queers in this chamber of ignominy. It is depraved and it is beautiful.