Check Out My Gravel Pit*

Ah Thursdays.

I love Thursday nights. It is a rare Thursday evening that doesn't find me standing in an overheated room somewhere, glass of free wine clutched in one hand, back firmly presented to a wall of art. This Thursday I was actually there to SEE the art for once since my friend Claire was included in a curated show at the city library on Flinders Lane.

As ever, the space was overheated, overcrowded and the wine was terrible but free and the art... was actually really good. Aw.

Another predictable thing happened at the opening. Given that Melbourne is really just a bunch of villages and it is impossible to spend more than a year living here and not to start to devlop a glittering cast of background characters that you will inevitably bump into over and over and over again no matter how many nights/morning's you've spent vervently praying that you Never See Them Again, I bumped into the bestie of BoyX. This reminded me that mere hours earlier I had been gazing over my desk at a man who bore a striking and freakish similarity to BoyX and who had, in turn reminded me of my recently developed and hellaciously indepth and ultraly scientific theory I had started to formulate.

The Theory
While bored on public transport, I often find myself passing the time by working out who on my tram I should give The Eye to. This should not be confused with the Evil or Stink Eye but rather the roving, Hey Baby, I'm Thinking About What's Under Your Shirt (Maybe) Eye. The "maybe" part of this Eye is actually the most important part. You don't want to be one of those naff PT riders who have crossed the line from 'potential' into lewd drooler. But the point, the point... So the point is, I have found myself giving the glad eye to boys who markedly resemble Boys X and Z for no other reason except for the resembalance. I find myself thinking warmly of them and yet - I know nothing about them. Nothing! Why does this vague recollection of nakedness-past make me assume that the man on the tram is going to be nice, more interesting and with a similar music collection to someone else? That he doesn't even know? (although it would be weird if they did all know each other) Am I the only one who does it? What does it all mean.....

Conclusions as they occur



*the title of this entry was meant to relate to the doco I saw last night on the Wu Tang Clan but I can't be arsed changing it now - or writing about the film