fitzroyalty

Another street art phenomenon - phone booths stuck high up on a wall in a laneway off Flinders Lane. Much observed and photographed by people like me walking out the Regent Theatre side exit following a MIFF session.

The Gypsy Bar is just around the corner from my flat. I went on a fabulous first date there years ago, when I had been in Melbourne for only 6 days, and when I walk past I experience a moment of romantic nostalgia. The glowing coffee machine makes me think of absinthe and decadent indulgences. It seemed so unlikely then that I would live so close to this cosy den of intimacy. It has the right kind of atmosphere; something that is impossible to artificially manufacture. Their bloody mary is perfect.

The suburb statistics tool Postcode Power reveals some fascinating information. It shows that Fitzroyalty are better paid, better educated, are getting more sex, are less religious and, most importantly, own more Ferraris than the national average. The results for Fitzroy 3065 are available here.

Last night I saw Sonic Youth at the Palace in St Kilda. They were not exactly what I expected but I definitely enjoyed the show. It was more Joy Division meets Eno than the guitar onslaught I thought was their usual live style, and what my friends who had seen them before had described. The 2 guitar 2 bass and drums lineup created some beautiful melodies, and there was enough guitar feedback and moody aimless jamming to satisfy me. Respect.

Back when I wrote postmodern theoretical wank for a living, I could debate concepts like the natural feminine for hours. Now I can’t be bothered. I’d prefer to discuss real people and real lives. However, I sometimes see something that is so odd or contrary to what I consider to be ‘real’ that I do stop and think. This shop dummy in a Johnston St shop window has absurdly artificial breasts. Why does a dummy need implants? What does this say about simulation, replication, representation and commodification of the feminine image and the female body?