Water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink.

Sometimes all seagulls need on Christmas day is a stroll along the beach and a long, wistful gaze out over the ocean.

I would like to think that this seagull is ruminating on the often contradictory impulses of nature, the isolation of modern life or how to build a better mousetrap, but I'd wager it's thinking about sex like the rest of us...

Comments

Hilda said…

LOL! Or food. Which most people think about probably more often than sex, I think, despite their saying otherwise! ;D

Thank you for the Christmas greeting, Kris! After the Christmas family reunions, I've only now begun visiting.

I hope you and your family had a wonderful, joyous Christmas!

26 December 2008 at 22:46

SH -ic said…

lol poor little one .. are you ok .. have a good time

27 December 2008 at 02:12

crittoria said…

I have to agree with Hilda. Probably food, with sex running a close second. For Christmas, I bought my 9 year old son a wonderful little book about raising bunnies. It turned out to have a very graphic and informative chapter on reproduction. He learned a lot, much to our chagrin. ;-) Oh well.

27 December 2008 at 03:56

Anonymous said…

No I reckon it's thinking about filling its belly too. Then planning on whose car he can crap on.

28 December 2008 at 01:25

Kris McCracken said…

Hilda, I like food. I DO think about it a lot too...

PtW, I am doing okay, thank you.

Crittoria, food and sex? With rabbits? Hmmm...

Jackie, so it isn't jonathan Livingston Seagull then?

5 January 2009 at 10:57

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...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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