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Photo Friday "Green"

22 May 2005, 09:45

Dewy-eyed Window. Click to enlarge in Gallery

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Scenes from Smith Street, Fitzroy

14 May 2005, 18:56

I think it’s fair to say that Smith Street in Fitzroy has long been considered Brunswick Street’s poorer cousin – less hip, less esoterically trendy, fewer night spots and restaurants… but I like Smith Street a lot more… it’s less pretentious, more “real” and many many more photo opportunities.

If you’re ever down that way, check out Shop Sui on Gertrude Street – a little bit of home for the Japanophilically-challenged…

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In other news, I’ve become a part-time grogger (this has absolutely nothing to do with Smith Street).

After the particularly hideous sickness post “Nick’s” party a couple of weeks ago I’m off the demon drink and have turned to the light (read: soft-cock) beer.

It’s now my mission to find the tastiest light beer in Australia. Now, when are they bringing that god-invoking low-alcohol wine over here (and can you actually buy it in Australia yet – anyone know)? God knows we (ahem, I) need it more than they do…

And no, before you (smart – arses) ask, am not up-the-duff. People, please. Just looking after myself and the brains-trust (any more intoxication and my braincell count may very well run to nil)... Wakatta?

[click to enlarge all photos]

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Photo Friday "Space"

13 May 2005, 18:21

Click to enlarge in Gallery

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Multicultural Melbourne

8 May 2005, 08:59

If there is one thing I love about Melbourne it is the mix of cultures in one relatively small city. Did you know Melbourne has the highest Greek population outside of Athens? True story.

Don’t know much about the “ethnic” mix of the south side of the Yarra (apart from the Jewish quarter down Caulfield way) but north of the river there is a diverse mix of Greek, Italian, Eastern-European, Chinese, Vietnamese, Turkish and Lebanese (and many more), all existing in (apparent) harmony.

At the local fruit and vege market, you’ll hear a plethora of different spoken languages in a half-hour and that’s no exaggeration.

I’m currently reading “A Secret Country” by John Pilger which describes the massive roadblocks (culturally and bureaucratically) immigrants had to and still have to face in coming to Australia, and I hope that the “harmony” I see between cultures when I do my Saturday morning shopping is a true reflection because, fuck, it feels nice.

I like living in a place that offers that diversity (ahem, admittedly because I love the different foods – stomach, sit girl!) and oddly, to be surrounded by languages I don’t understand. I know some people hate it, but I’m really drawn to it.

I went on a photographic hunt yesterday, walking a 2 city block area of the inner north, just to see how many different cultures/languages I could photograph. It made me really look at what was on offer, where before I may have just taken the mix of languages by the side of the road, for granted.

I think I’ll stay, thanks.

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Photo Friday "Action"

7 May 2005, 06:47

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Night of the Living Dead

2 May 2005, 08:40

My theory is that once people hit 30, they go all potty. In a good way. Our friend, let’s call him “Nick”, hired a sprawling 8-bedroom ranch in the middle of nowhere (well, on the outskirts of Daylesford, but still qualifies) and threw a “Night of the Living Dead” party for 20 of his closest friends on Saturday night.

It was a Who’s Who of the ghoul world – Sadako, a Stacy, evil schoolgirls (apparently from Melbourne High), Dracula’s missus, a bevy of garden-variety bogan zombies and some brave zombie hunters (including a rather feisty cardinal). Quite an esteemed circle of friends. Many who patently had done theatre at school, university and most likely at work. Not only did the (dark and rainy) night bring out our inner zombie (everyone has one) but our thespian tendencies. Groovy.

There was a coffin cake, vodka jelly shots with eye balls (actually licorice but I think I’d have preferred eye balls), zombie hunt games, Nosferatu-grade latex wounds sprouting from everyone’s face, weapons of wraith – destruction (a miracle no-one poked an eye out) and of course, no Night of the Living Dead party is complete without a zombie pinata.

Thanks to “Nick” for a spectacular night that only pictures can do justice (so check out the Night of the Living Dead gallery). Can’t speak for the morning though, given an unusually dire hangover (I could have sworn 3 Coopers Vintages and a bottle of champers never did that much damage before) including much riding of porcelain bus.

It was ridiculous how much effort “Nick” made. Now I have to come up with a bang-up idea for Husband’s 30th next Feb to top it…

Any ideas?

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An episode at “Nick”’s party marked #3 in the “bad luck comes in threes” charade…

Firstly, during the day on Friday my bicycle got stolen from the foyer of our apartment. It was locked around the wheels, but not to anything (under the stairs so there’s nothing to lock it to) so we reckon it was an inside job. SO annoyed. Not like it was an expensive bike, but fuckit, people are such assholes. Not much I can do about other people being assholes, though.

Second, on Saturday, Husband pointed out a nice big dent in the side of our car. Don’t remember hitting anything, so probably happened while I was parked and someone backed into it. AAAAAAAH. Hit. And. Run. Assholes.

Finally (and we had been waiting for it), at the Ranch, Husband was playing silly buggers and started playing zombie outside the bathroom window. He rapped on the window and next thing you know, crack. Broken window. The next day we got a quote for someone to fix it – $190. Being as broke as that stupid flimsy frikkin’ piece of glass, we managed to get some glass cut and picked it up in Ballarat (!) for $60. People are such rip-off merchants. Assholes.

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