I am trying to do two things: dare to be a radical and not a fool, which is a matter of no small difficulty.

Looking up to where the crow's nest should be, I see no pirates, parrots or Great White Sharks. I see ropes, levers and wispy clouds, but not a brigand, buccaneer nor buggering bastard in sight!

It was such a disappointment.

Christ I am tired.

Neighbours who come home after a night on the piss, put on their heartfelt torch songs on far too loud while they have a smoke and reflect on their lack of romantic success should be shot.

Comments

Roddy said…

Oh my god, a sat. nav. where the crows nest should be. And will miracles never cease to happen, a t.v. aerial.
What would Edward Teach have said to that?

5 April 2009 at 10:21

Kris McCracken said…

Roddy, he'd say "ARRRRRGGGHHHH!!!!"

5 April 2009 at 10:29

KL said…

Oh Dear! now you will really get into trouble!!

No need to say nice picture - now I am getting really pissed off constantly telling you that :-P

5 April 2009 at 10:34

Kris McCracken said…

KL, I rather like this one myself.

5 April 2009 at 18:38

Frank said…

You left a one word comment on our blog and I wanted to see if I could figure out what you meant by "crazy". I still am not sure what crazy meant but then, I am 63 and not always current on slang expressions. I did find a delightful blog and a couple of the best father and son photos I've ever seen.

6 April 2009 at 04:44

Kris McCracken said…

Frank, the crazy was with regard to the idea of thirteen children. I find TWO wear me out.

THIRTEEN would kill me!

6 April 2009 at 15:53

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...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

This will hurt me...

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