Skip to main content

Man is the only animal for whom his own existence is a problem which he has to solve and from which he cannot escape


Obviously back to my trend of photographs that suggest the alienation of modern human beings, and the disenchantment that for many accompanies modernity. It has always struck me as vaguely amusing that although life - for Westerners at least - is immeasurably better today than ever before in human history (less people go hungry, gender inequality is relatively narrow, people live longer, possess more, are safer amongst many other indicators), so very many people do nothing but complain all the time.

Comments

Miles McClagan said…
I've done nothing today but complain, but I'm not well...and kids have collided into my ankles all day...

Sure, it's not plunging into a coal miners pit for tuppence, but ya know, I'm a man of my times!
The ones here you complain the most are the ones who have the most. The have nots get on with it. Agreed times are better, but the gap seems ever wider. Great upshot, really tight angle.
I think complaining is easier for most people, and I think for some, it helps them sort things out.
I guess when you aren't struggling to survive, you have more time to complain.

I wonder if that building makes cool echoes. Excellent shot!
Anonymous said…
Complaining helps... for a few minutes. Too much complaining is a burden, too.

But as long as you keep on taking these pics, you can complain all you want :-)
freefalling said…
You're not complaining about complaining, are you?
Kris McCracken said…
Miles, at least the world didn't end...

Babooshka, I did have to crick my neck right back to get it.

Boise Diva, there is such a thing as constructive complaining, provided you move past the whining part of it. Unfortunately, many don't and just sit on the sidelines having a moan!
Kris McCracken said…
Mary, I think that you've hit the nail on the head.

M. Isabel Guerra, I do like the odd moan myself, but I try not to mistake it for constructive dialogue. Unfortunately, many people I meet tend to confuse the two concepts.

FF, of course I am complaining about complaining! I figure that this is okay when half the meetings I attend are consumed by people talking about people talking about people talking about doing stuff. [That wasn't a typo.] No 'stuff' ever seems to get done. Which the same people then complain about. Thus I muse on why they are alive, I guess...
Dina said…
Thank God, I no longer have anything or anyone to kvetch about.
And certainly no complaints about your fantastic photo!
Suzi-k said…
Brilliant photo, and yes, there is WAY too much complaining going on amongst comfortable privileged people. A sort of chronic ennui that pervades the upper eschelons. Hehe, there, ennui is my "crepuscular" !

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut