On Gas Food Lodging, Old Fitzroy and the drift of young adulthood

In January 1993, I walked out from the cool dark of the Kino cinema into the warm light of Collins Street. I’d just seen the Allison Anders’ film, Gas Food Lodging, and I was feeling like maybe soon there would be beauty in my life. I walked to Brunswick Street, where the pub windows glowed golden. Inside, when someone asked me why I looked so happy, I shrugged and sipped my pot. Maybe I told them about the film, more likely I hoarded it. Because, it was a feeling, and how could you tell about that?

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