Skip to main content

Conquer thyself. Till thou hast done that, thou art a slave; for it is almost as well to be in subjection to another's appetite as thine own.


He's hungry, and he's headed your way.

Be very, very careful.

Labels

Labels:

Comments

Roddy said…
The eyes have it. What a stunning picture. This kid is going places.
5 August 2009 at 20:59
Natalie said…
Look at those wrists! I loved when my kids' wrists were chubby like that. So cute!
5 August 2009 at 22:12
Sarah said…
A hungry man!? He looks so grandeur!
5 August 2009 at 22:12
Lessie said…
Those eyes are amazing! Just beautiful!
6 August 2009 at 00:00
Melody Ann Ross said…
Thank you for your nice comment yesterday Kris! Your kiddo is certainly stunning... those beautiful eyes!!
6 August 2009 at 02:07
Lowell said…
What a cutie. And you're right; a hungry kid is nothing to mess with!

I've not seen your blog before, so thanks for stopping at The Villages DP!

I'll be back here often.

Regarding the legality of golf cars in the street, see my response to Clueless in Boston.

Have a great day.

You are quite a poet, yourself...I enjoyed your descriptions of the photos as much as the photos themselves!
6 August 2009 at 02:28
yamini said…
He looks anything but scary.
Hi Ez, how'ya doin?
6 August 2009 at 04:26
Baino said…
Haha there's a man on a mission alright. I wish my 'kids' were as happy to be photographed on a daily basis . .then they're 22 and 24 so a little more reluctant unless it's a facbook photo!
6 August 2009 at 20:09
Priyanka Khot said…
I love those cheeks... I ask again!!!

HOW DO YOU GET ANYTHING DONE, WITH SUCH PULL-ABLE CHEEKS AROUND
6 August 2009 at 21:22
Kris McCracken said…
Natalie, I miss Henry’s chubbiness already. He’s all lean and lithe now.
7 August 2009 at 09:32
Kris McCracken said…
Sarah, he’s always hungry.
7 August 2009 at 09:32
Kris McCracken said…
Lessie, he’s blessed.
7 August 2009 at 09:32
Kris McCracken said…
Cast in the name of god, ye not guilty, that is some tag!
7 August 2009 at 09:32
Kris McCracken said…
Jacob, I just talk lots of rubbish really...
7 August 2009 at 09:33
Kris McCracken said…
Yamani, he’s terrifying.
7 August 2009 at 09:33
Kris McCracken said…
Baino, mine haven’t logged onto Facebook yet.
7 August 2009 at 09:33
Kris McCracken said…
Priyanka Khot, I kiss them instead.
7 August 2009 at 09:33
Kitty said…
lol, what an expression.
7 August 2009 at 23:02
Kris McCracken said…
Kitty, he does this excellent "throws head back in a state of utter despair" too.

I blame Henry.
10 August 2009 at 08:51
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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. ...
62 comments
Read more

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...
5 comments
Read more

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...
38 comments
Read more