homicide 4 feb 1975, 'mr spence'

This episode is more interesting for the way the story is told, than for the story itself, which is pretty pedestrian (ok so the man didn't kill his wife so he could have a relationship with a co-worker precisely - it seems he killed her kind of in self-defence - but he still killed her and it's credit to the talents of Homicide cast and crew that they were able to spin this out to an hour). 

So here's Keith Eden, in the 13th of his 14th roles in Homicide, as Mr Spence, waiting outside Flinders St station for Helen Taylor - played by Patsy King who oddly enough was also appearing in the 13th of her 14 Homicide roles. 

Surprisingly this episode - well, this scene at least - was shot almost a year before it was shown, on 27 February 1974. Here's the front page of the Age for that day:

Btw Whitlam was using 'fantastic' in the old sense, of pertaining to fantasy. 

I suppose it was semi-nice to see the old Princes Bridge Station roof (?) area looking out towards Flinders St, I went up there a few times, it was always stupid. 

covid brain

So I think I was ok for a couple of weeks but now I am pretty sure my covid brain has come back, I have no idea what causes it but something is causing it. It made for a pretty weird day today because I went to have lunch with Alanna (that was an hour or so) then I wanted to go to the State Library and look at some things I had ordered a few days before relating to French Island and most particularly its nuclear power plant proposal from the 70s, which went nowhere, and so after leaving Gertrude St Fitzroy, I got on a tram to the city, having just missed an 86 I got a tram down Brunswick Road and for some reason missed the right tram stop and I was at Parliament station so I thought - well it's a bit of a waste of time but I'll get the train to Melbourne Central and then I'll be at the SLV, piss easy. Well. No trains from Parliament actually went to Melbourne Central this afternoon it would seem and instead I got on the wrong train, to Richmond (I ran for it, I didn't know where it was going but I hoped that since the train on platform 3 was going to Flinders st, the train on platform 4 would go the other direction. Not at all. It went to Richmond.) So then I had to get a train to Flinders Street, and then thought I would get a tram up Flinders Street, but there were no trams in Flinders Street, for no reason I could see. So I walked it. Finally I was there (if you think this is boring to read, imagine living it). Whatever I'd ordered at the SLV (I tried to access my SLV account on my computer but it wouldn't open) only three things were there. One of them was this:

...which looks great but was actually not a bit great (for my purposes). Whatever the story was of nuclear power on French Island, no-one seems to have done much of an investigation/narrative although really I have only looked in contemporary books/publications, other stuff not apparent. 

Then I decided to go home but that's when things got really like a bad dream, because I was sucked into Melbourne Central itself because I thought I'd just look at the free library but it was very light on and I got into an argument with two men there over this book: 

...and whether it was about Lacan or Hitchcock, and I said it was about Lacan, although what the fuck would I know, I just didn't think it was likely to be 'about' Hitchcock but either way I didn't want to talk about it. Then I was trying to get out but I ended up going into a pen store, and buying some stuff, that was silly and then I was just feeling super disoriented, and I finally managed to focus adequately to get the fuck out of there. I wonder if shopping mall sales are up due to covid. 

Here's Nancy having just had her dinner and contemplating the world outside. 

cat dream

I dreamt I was in the lobby of a European (? international anyway) hotel just letting Nancy and Helmi have a wander around when other cats and at least one dog descended on us. The dog, which was a big grey hound, literally jumped down - or more like deliberately dropped - from the floor above. The cats came in more cautiously. I picked Nancy up but of course there's no way you can pick Helmi up so I just had to hope she'd find her way back to the hotel room, remembering that she had a collar with her name and my number on it (which by the way she doesn't).

This is the second dream I've had about picking Nancy up in a location of turmoil, joining my dream last week about carrying her down Flinders St. towards the station. I am glad to say that in both dreams she is reasonably controllable. 

happy birthday

Today is Michael Hutchence's 50th birthday and Flinders Street Station's 100th birthday. Neither is really alive and yet both have a place in our hearts. I like three things Hutchence did: that song with Don Walker, that film with Richard Lowenstein, and the Max Q album. Oh, and Full Moon, Dirty Hearts, most of it anyway. I like many more things FSS did and still does. Happy birthday, you two fine old men.

flinders st station penthouse

I like the little window on the top of Flinders St Station. The light is always on. At various times I have seen the silhouette of a man (?) in a turban, an afghan hound, and a hungarian woman, all gazing out into the dazzling furious nightlife below.