The bits of stuff that fall in the cracks between Life, Music and outrageous fortune.		  
 
 
 
April
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1) The fountain (check out the big version) 2) The REB shows off its temporary green coat

3) The shot of the show..		 Arty farty smarty party
21.4.06 - As I struggle to learn by heart the fat wad of lyrics for the upcoming Schumann Show on Anzac Day, I ruefully reflect on Black Friday, wasted on a prematurely retired router and hours of helpful hints from Telstra, and compare that to the events of a couple of days ago. A couple of days ago it didn't matter that I didn't know the lyrics and I was happily reading them off my notes (so to speak) in rehearsal. We (the band) went through the entire set about three times until somebody felt comfortable, and we called it a day. I gave Brod a lift to the Southern Cross station and mosied on down to the Royal Exhibition Buildings to check out the 'Affordable' Art Show with Jenny.
I got there quite early, so I entertained myself taking some touristy REB shots - I got a nice one of the fountain as the sun went down and one of the REB itself with the coloured lights playing on its facade (pics 1 & 2). There wasn't much to distinguish this year's AAS from last year's, except I had a passable red wine,

which eased the pain a little.
The day wasn't over yet, as I had an invitation from Paul Murphy to pop into Metropolis to check out the latest version of the Spectrum DVD, which Paul has been altruistically assembling for at least five years now, and got there as the show was nearing its end. In attendance was a small group of Spectrum devotees, including Ian McFarlane, whom I was glad to see looking pretty well, as I'd heard rumours that he wasn't in the best of health.
Paul showed off some of the DVD's improved features, and we had a laugh at some wild and woolly stories about various luminaries, all like myself, close to being, or actually extinguished. If that's not calculated to put one in a reflective mood, I don't know what is.
 

1) A gambler's faithful hound waits 2) Samuel displays his eggs		 Easter weekend
16.4.06 - Easter's a funny time - funny peculiar, that is. For instance, there's a mixture of emotions conjured up by the religious calendar, with some of the best music in the church folio, ranging from contemplative to triumphant, being played on the classical stations. It filters into my life like the shadow of a long lost memory, with the result that I spend a lot of Easter feeling vaguely sad. It's not just the music of course, but that's the trigger.
Today, Chris and I went over to Terry and Marie's place and met up with the rel's. Eggs were hidden and recovered gleefully, and too much sweet food was eaten - by me, anyway.
It would be wrong to say that, because of commercial exploitation, Easter is simply a children's festival, because Easter suggests something much more sombre than, say, Christmas, (particularly since Easter in the southern hemisphere heralds winter rather than spring), but in these superficial times it remains an occasion to bring families closer together, and one can't wish for better than that.
 

1) Punter in the Lab X Gallery 2) The sky from Mordialloc pier 3) A lamb salad at the Gusto Bakery
The weekend that was..
11.4.06 - Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose - or that's the way it felt over the weekend. On Friday I was invited to go to the Lab X Gallery in St Kilda as the first instalment of the evening's proceedings, and had plenty of time to peruse the work on display as part of the Phantasm photograhic exhibition. As it turned out, I just missed Richard and Mary, whose friend Greg Wayne was one of the three photographers involved. I really liked Greg's contributions, with their intense rust and blues and graphic quality, and I had time to savour the cabernet sauvignon on offer as well.
Saturday was a write off, with Spectrum leaving Melbourne far too early to play in Geelong and not getting home until some obscene hour on Sunday morning, but on Sunday arvo I managed to take Chris to Mordialloc to do the fish & chip lunch thing, and then pop over to Warrandyte and watch a couple of Super Fourteen games with Richard in the evening. Richard cooked an extremely fine risotto to complement my cauliflower soup entrëe, but we were both too pooped to really appreciate the efforts of the ruggered cross-country wrestlers busting their arses to entertain us.
The good news is that the Gusto Bakery opened today, occupying the space where the Starpark Café once lived, and, while it is different, it's similar enough to adopt as my new home away from home. O joy!
 

Chris and Evelyn at the Starpark		 Starpark Café no more
3.4.06 - The Starpark Café manifested itself in my life the Christmas before last and has since become a fixture, the dependable starting point of many a day. I could count on the consistency of their coffee and their menu, and I became quite friendly with some of the front of house staff. Only a couple of weeks after ordering his first cup of coffee from Evelyn, Chris actually ordered his fried rice for the first time in living memory, and so I'm sure he'll miss the place too. Bill tells me he used to haunt the place when he was living in Glen Iris, and I believe Ken Stephenson was a regular, although I only caught him and Helen there the once.
Speaking of Ken, I went over to his place last week and put harp on a number of tracks for his daughter Jo's album, and of course discovered that Bill and Robbo had already been there in their various capacities. Ross Ryan is going to record something with Ken soon too, maybe an album. I tell you, it's an incestuous little scene in Glen Iris..
 

The Life of Brian the Boxer		 The unexpected perils of walking the dog
3.4.06 - One of the less savoury aspects of walking Dylan the dog, is his inclination to eat smaller dogs being walked by other hapless dog owners, and he just has to have a go at anything bigger than him too. And cats. Dylan's not my dog, and Jenny has spent quite enough on dog whisperers and the like trying to convince Dylan that this is not good doggie etiquette, but while he's not as bad as he was, I suspect that this tendency will never altogether disappear, hence I am constantly vigilant for other potential morsels on the road or behind gates - wherever.
Last week we were walking home beside the railway, with an enormous fence some six feet up an embankment on our left, when we were both startled by the deep woof of a senior dog somewhere above us. Sure enough, this dog's thoughtful owner had carved a hole big enough for his old boxer to stick his head through and startle, if not dribble on, passers by. I felt as if I had indavertently stumbled on the set of a Terry Gilliam movie, and Dylan wasn't impressed either.
 
 
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