Yesterday I was given a couple of tickets to the St Kilda Film Festival and, not being able to resist a freebie, Thieu and I went along. One of the first things they screened were two "micro-movies" - only 90 seconds long and designed to be played on mobile phones. I thought they were kind of ok, but today I had an interesting discussion with Simon who feels that the whole mobile phone film concept is an ominous sign for film-making because it relies so heavily on the punchline at the expense of plot or character development.
It's a good point - something I hadn't really considered (I love a gimick). This lead to a discussion about why are we so obsessed with making things quicker and shorter. Is it really because we're all so desperately time-poor? And why is it that this hasn't spread across to books? Publishers are so reluctant to publish and promote short stories, when you'd think they'd be the way forward. All very interesting, in a dispiriting kind of way. Some of the films last night actually reminded me a lot of tv advertisements, and as the presenter pointed out the festival's artwork this year consists of tv sets piled up to form, presumably, a cinema screen. Is this how it works then? 100 tvs equal one screen? What an odd comparison to make.
On the house-hunting front, it looks very likely that we will be taking over La Spin's former residence (although it felt like we had to dance through hoops to get it). Such a relief. June is shaping up to be a killer month, though. Moving, work trips, freelance. I'm too scared to look in my diary at the moment. But once we're moved it'll be great. Can't wait to have lots of room although I suspect it won't take us long to fill it with crap.
I met up with my sister, Petite, on the weekend and we went shopping. It is an extrodinary experience, shopping with Petite, because she is very very good at it. Much better than I am. I never find anything but whenever I go with Petite I end up coming home with bags of stuff. She pulls things off clothes racks that I would never consider and convinces me to try them on. And she's always right. So I ended up with a stretchy top and some stretchy pants, both of which I need but have been in denial about purchasing. I felt ok about these purchases, however, because they were from normal stores and not maternity wear and I could - conceivably - wear them in a non-pregnant state. The pants actually make me look quite pregnant. I wore them on Saturday night and La Spin noticed the bulge immediately. "Where did that come from?" she demanded to know. "That wasn't there on Wednesday."
Then I met Le Docteur who had very kindly agreed to look at.... prams with me. It's obvious way too early to be looking at such stuff but another friend has offered to sell me her pram so I thought I'd better look around and get a bit of a feel for what is out there. Le Docteur steered me towards the pram dept at Myer. On the edge of pramland I freaked. "Take a deep breath." he advised. So I did. I felt like such a fraud being in there with my micro-bump and wanted to wave my last ultra-sound picture around. Prams are so big. And expensive. Later Thieu turned up and had a go at folding them up, one by one. "Pram-a-tron." I said, as they collapsed, and then thought wistfully how lovely it would be if they really did fold down into the shape of a robot.
So no prams were purchased, but I think I have a better idea of at least what to expect from a pram. I recommend sidling up to them from the front with a lump of sugar on your outstretched palm. Speak soothingly, reassuringly - in much the same way that Thieu is currently talking to me.
