Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, change

Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, change—this is the rhythm of living.

Here is bit an experiment with shutter speed, a zoom and a fast-running fountain. I think that in order to get the shot that I really envisaged, I need more light and a slower fountain.

I used to write a lot of things down in these books that I had. I wouldn't call the journals as such, but I'd write things in there and draw stupid little pictures and occasionally paste in newspaper articles or cartoons or comics or pictures that drew my attention for some reason or other.

Often I'd record overheard conversations or (often poorly) remembered snatches of conversation. I thought that in the spirit of experimentation, I'd dig something up. I did date it, and it was overhead in the winter of 1996, during a night on the tiles. You'd never guess:

and it's the past - it's over - remember when - remember when? - remember that? - of course - i do - space and time - i do - worth it's weight - definitely - and it's there - there it is - but i can't tell you anything - i know - don't know how to sleep on my own - i know - i know 'cos i know - come on then - come on down - come on come on - that chick's gone crazy - screaming - yelling - and she sure made a lot of noise

I assume that there was some alcohol involved, but I can't remember any details other than there was a lot of cigarette smoke. I wonder if the smoking ban in pubs and clubs mean that people feel less seedy the morning after the night before. That might explain a few things.

Comments

stromsjo said…

...and spending most of our time crammed in between success and failure...

1 February 2009 at 07:08

Kris McCracken said…

Per, I am hoping that we're all leaning towards success...

2 February 2009 at 09:06

stromsjo said…

Fortunately, we're all allowed to establish our own definitions of what exactly constitutes success!

3 February 2009 at 03:42

Kris McCracken said…

Per, only too true. I have loose definitions, and am thus nearly always successful!

3 February 2009 at 12:06

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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