A Cocktail of Rare Emotions

TOMORROW - SATURDAY - WILL SEE THE BIRTHDAY OF ROLLERS AKA DIRTY MARK AKA MARC AKA NOLES AT TROIKA, LITTLE LONSDALE ST, CITY. TROIKA IS RUSSIAN FOR 'THREE'. JOIN US. 8.30PM PLUS.

Last night's events saw the production of a hitherto unknown array of internal reactions. I will describe these emotions, with accompanying images to illustrate.

The Melbourne OnScreen launch kicked off proceedings. I rallied to troops at work and realised we were running late. I was MILDLY TREPIDATIOUS:

We wandered down through the forlorn wasteland, I mean exciting new development that is the Docklands precinct, and made our way past the cyclone wire and sluiced canals to Studio 5 of the film studios there. Unlike the previous night's gala stars-and-clouds venue of the Regent Ballroom, the Studio was a cold, gleaming steel nightmare. The crowd was uniformly attired in black, mostly older, and reeking of political dollars. I felt out of place. I was NONPLUSSED. But then I spied the catering:

And was CHUFFED. They made no bones about the fact that the beer was VB, but the wine was tasty and the food supoib - they must have done a bulk deal on the fetta since it was pretty much on everything, but bowls of mushroom risotto, pizzetta, folded pastries etc were much appreciated. It was also outrageously vego-friendly. I was BOUYED.

This feeling wasn't to last long - once the speeches kicked off, I found myself listening to a long succession of businesspeople and pollies high-fiving the Melbourne film industry, backslapping their fellow attendees and generally bigging-up themselves. It was boring. And I felt DESPONDENT.

As my ennui increased, I soon became BEMUSED:

I was forced to turn off vital portions of my brain in order to stay standing. In fact, this gradual dimming of awareness led me into a situation of which I had been afraid since the advent of mobile technologies: I SMSed someone who turned out to be standing two feet behind me.

At first, when this dawned on me, I was FLABBERGASTED:

But I eventually found the humour in the situation, and was TICKLED.

In case it's not obvious, I couldn't wait to get out of there. So we cabbed it to Dancehouse in North Carlton for the opening of the second season of 3D - Dance, Dramaturgy and Design. Since the first round hadn't entirely lived up to my hopes, I was MILDLY DUBIOUS.

My concerns were misplaced. The first performance, by State of Flux, began with a few minutes of darkness and some neato live vibraphone, and once lights came on and the five dancers (including one wheelchaired) started up with their crazy impro contact stuff, I was INTRIGUED.

This soon changed to a QUIETLY APPRECIATIVE attitude.

Which continued throughout the second piece, Julia and Phoebe Robinson's Quiet Listening Exercises. That was ace. Each audience member had their own headphones, and listened to the electronic soundtrack to the piece in a private bubble of rumination. I emerged in a CONTEMPLATIVE MOOD.

After an interval, the evening was rounded off by a long, old-school absurdist piece of little to no dance by Five Square Metres. I won't go on at length about it. I did contain some ok moments. But overall, it left me PISSED.

After the show was over, there was more fine catering: eggplant dip with mini sourdough slices; cheese and same; some meaty thing I didn't look at; fetta-stuffed olives and an olive-like thing that none of us could identify, which left me feeling VEXED.

And so, a few more wines and a good gab later, I left and walked home to the UNREMITTING TERROR THAT IS MY DOMESTIC LIFE: