All the great speakers were bad speakers at first.

Here is an angry little bloke trying to get into the storage room at the Geilston Bay Community Centre. Now, yes I am a member of the Board, but I am unsure as to whether that grants access for all of my family to the treasure trove within.

A stickler for process, I've had to yellow card Ez for his transgression, and put him on notice...

Comments

yamini said…

But why can't you let him in? Dear Ez surely doesnt mean any harm to the place. He is just curious like kids are..

I think you should take back that yellow card and the notice and let this cute little bloke to have a peek at the storage room.

4 September 2009 at 21:03

Priyanka Khot said…

hahaaha Curious Case of Ezra McCracken! You yellow carded him, but i am sure u must have had a peep inside urself... do enlighten on what was behind the door. I am curious too.

I love his cheeks. I would absolve him of any crime just for being so so so CUTE!

4 September 2009 at 21:54

Roddy said…

In the beginning there was no language. Then unfortunately we learnt to talk. Have we learnt anything? No! We won't shut up.
I notice that you have something that has grabbed the young Ezras' eye. What might it be? Or is it just the sound of your voice that has attracted his attention?
This kid is so good looking! Don't tell Henry though as I believe he thinks that the looks are all in his department.

4 September 2009 at 22:05

Sarah said…

If you allowed him to go into...,then what would be happen??

5 September 2009 at 03:32

Roddy said…

I have seen behind this door and wasn't all that impressed. However Ezra would probably have a ball. Was he allowed in today at playgroup?

5 September 2009 at 12:48

Kris McCracken said…

Hello all, the main reasons concerns the abundance of SCISSORS in there...

8 September 2009 at 08:45

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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