Hello, my name is Marieke Hardy and I'm going to die. But that's okay. Because so are you. And so is everybody you know, including and trust me, I'm as angry about this as you are, your dog. It's confronting, and painful and nobody really likes to think about it. But I believe there's something important about this universal experience we're all having together, that we're surviving somehow impossibly, and that it's worth interrogating. If you don't know who I am, hi, hello, here's a brief bio.
I was a child actor routinely humiliating myself on a variety of platforms. Here's me at eight years of age in an Australian kids TV series called the Henderson kids

CLIP FROM THE HENDERSON KIDS.

Around the age of 18, I transitioned out of acting to the no doubt huge relief of the industry, who are presumably still high fiving each other and became a writer, which has been my main source of employment ever since. I've written films, TV shows and plays. I've written for newspapers and magazines and occasional pamphlets. I've danced in my underpants on stage to bikers festival. I was once introduced to Patti Smith and she said how are you? And I said food? And she looked at me pityingly and walked away was a fine was a good we'll never know. I've also worked in radio with two years co hosting triple Jays national Breakfast Show across 2008 2009

CLIP FROM THE TRIPLE J BREAKFAST SHOW ROBBIE MARIEKE AND THE DOCTOR

for 11 years, I had the joy of talking absolute shit about books and literature on a monthly ABC TV show called The Book Club, where I continued to cover myself in high end glory

CLIP FROM THE BOOK CLUB

But I'm going to be straight with you. I had a pretty emotionally complex 2015 I decided it was time to pull away from the tap dancing, all sass, smart mouth public image, I felt I'd very artfully curated for everybody else, and just go to therapy and stop acting like a cunt. I've written TV shows and films about death made performance art, and party's about it come at it from a lot of conceivable angles. But what interests me is talking to people I love and admire about death and how they feel about it. What do they want their funeral to look like? What does their life seem like when they reflect back? What are their cultural attachments to symbolism and ceremony? What are the impossible things they and their families have survived? What do they wish they'd done differently? And if someone did a nudie run through their cremation, who would it be? So that brings us here Marieke Hardy is going to die, and so are you. So let's talk while we still can. I want to acknowledge the privilege of being cis het white woman ruminating on mortality and the sensitivity attached to what can be a painful and politicized space. My attention is for this to be a place where we can reflect on death and dying together without too much tumult. But I trust if you need to tap out at any point, go eat a doughnut or pet a dog, preferably simultaneously. I love you.