Daily Dose of Dust
Jozef Imrich, name worthy of Kafka, has his finger on the pulse of any irony of interest and shares his findings to keep you in-the-know with the savviest trend setters and infomaniacs.
''I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center.''
-Kurt Vonnegut
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Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Somewhere in Sydney, you can press your ear to the cornerstone of a skyscraper and hear a faint but distinct whirring sound. Don’t be alarmed — it’s just the body of stories, spinning in its antipodean soul. Whenever, Bob, Dave, Geoff and J gather together all kinds of anecdotes come alive ... How enjoyable it was also to catch up with Dr Cope in a place where panoramic Sydney is on your vista platter. Two hours of talk just flies by so fast as judges come and go rejunvenated by the manna served on 14th floor cafeteria in Macquarie Street. One learns that Greig Tillotson had been appointed as the chief Librarian at the NSW Parliamentary Library. Some news is sadder as many of us have said goodbye to our parents in the last few weeks others have spent some time in hospitals ... Then quickly catch up with gossip with parliamentary staffers at Nippon club. An invite by N, the sexiest legs on earth, to invade Wine Banq (pronounced in nosal Bau) could not be resisted nor a dance at the Marble Bar later on in the night.
As you step into its graceful interior and surrender to the charms of its marble arches, stained glass doors and ceilings, ornate carved mahogany bars and famous gallery of Julian Ashton rural nudes you feel as if you were in a certain palace in Prague. Speaking of Prague, the waiter at the bar was very complimentary of Prague restaurant at Kellett Street where he went the night before, but was even more impressed when I told him about my friend Richard who received a scholarship at the Julian Ashton art school. Luckily for me, I only had to shout shiraz of ‘Mount Eye’ at the Marble Bar as my royalty are drying up. Banq is just astronomical for poverty stricken writers. By strange coincidence, I crossed paths with a friend of a friend and ended up having dinner at Chinatown with W. Rather bizarre dinner, but scalopini were fresh and so was the fish that looked at us with sad eyes from the plastic bag. I never realised that W would know any Triads, but how wrong one can be. I am still alive to blog about the strange encounter tonight so they cannot all be as ruthless as suggested by some insiders ;-)