Skip to main content

A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin.


Sometimes a bloke can be a bit groggy when he first gets up. The mind is generally cloudy, reactions slow and muted.

It's at this point that I like to shove a camera in someone's face.

Labels

Labels:

Comments

Roddy said…
Why then pick on your children? That's right, they can't argue.
1 August 2009 at 20:25
Betsy Brock said…
We have tons of pictures of our boys just waking up. There's just something irresistable about those warm puffy faces....or maybe it's just rekindled love for them after the break during their nap! LOL
2 August 2009 at 01:05
Debbie Courson Smith said…
The sweet curls in his hair....ahhh.
2 August 2009 at 01:20
Priyanka Khot said…
You are an ANGEL to do that.

In case it was unclear,.. i was being sarcastic :P
2 August 2009 at 02:27
yamini said…
How thoughtful of you Kris!!!!

I'm sure both Henry and Ezra will get back to you when they have chance. ;-)) I would like to see THAT photograph too he he he he!!!!
2 August 2009 at 04:57
tony said…
Brilliant Photo! I Bet You Were Popular!
Where does the Cynic Quote Come From?
2 August 2009 at 05:39
Kris McCracken said…
Betsy, they hate it.
3 August 2009 at 10:58
Kris McCracken said…
Boise Diva, he curls when he sleeps.
3 August 2009 at 10:58
Kris McCracken said…
Priyanka Khot, very cruel.
3 August 2009 at 10:58
Kris McCracken said…
yamini, they wouldn’t dare.
3 August 2009 at 10:58
Kris McCracken said…
tony, that would be the one and only H.L. Mencken.
3 August 2009 at 10:58
Roddy said…
With all these bahs, you are beginning to sound like a sheep. As long as you aren't the judas.
3 August 2009 at 12:15
yamini said…
You just wait and watch till they get their hands on a camera!!!!!
3 August 2009 at 16:03
Roddy said…
A sheep with a touch of cat.
3 August 2009 at 21:31
Kris McCracken said…
Yamini, Henry already has started with our old camera. I plan to post a few of them soon.
4 August 2009 at 08:40
yamini said…
Can't wait to see them!!!
4 August 2009 at 14:29
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