This will hurt me...

Taken a little after Christmas, here is Henry looking bemused after I reflected upon a tale of lessons learned long ago. Here I found myself and the little bloke standing outside a licensed establishment that sometime ago had a somewhat less than wholesome reputation. I remember one incident clearly, just before closing, with only the tired and emotional flotsam and jetsam that remains after a big night . Of course, at this point flotsam is threatening to smash jetsam's head in with a bar stool over some trifle incident involving the relative merits of Ian Botham over Imran Khan. Kinky Friedman summed up Friday nights like this better than anyone else I can think of when he observed Friday night was the night most people thought they were supposed to have fun. Trouble was most people didn't know what fun was or how to have it, so things usually ended up pretty ugly. So this particular Saturday morning was the ugly child of another Friday night when this 'lady' with cut...

Now ladies (and gents that may be so inclined), please form an orderly queue . Settle petal, there is enough man meat to go around if we just show a little patience. For those hard of sight - or more likely awestruck by the raw sexuality I have placed before you - the text in today's advertisement hits the nails right on the head when it talks about the ultimate fashion climax . Mmmmmm mmm ! I can't possible compete with the original here, so I won't even try. I'll leave it to the stud above to lay it out for you all: Fits so tight it shows all you've got ... you're a walking turn on . And treats your body as well as she does, Easy on, easy off , quick as a flick of her tongue . Sexy cool crinkle cloth for those hot nights to come. Designed with your desires in mind... she'll eat you alive in it . Mmmmm mmm! Hot damn! Somebody get a brother a cold glass of water here! I'm a little disappointed that it's only 50% polyester, but the fact that I c...

It amuses me to think that the Liberal Party have had two different leaders since the departure of Mr Howard from Parliament. Although that glorious occasion is rapidly dissolving into the gloomy fog of history, there remains trace elements scattered around the greater Hobart area to remind one of the event. This is but one. Indeed, Mr Howard, LOL!!

You cannot tell me that this is anything but the face of a pure little angel sent from heaven to make us all look bad in comparison. Ever since Ezra arrived on the scene, I find myself searching out all of these magnificent exhibitions and events, but inevitably leave bitterly disappointed . I went to the Louvre, and stormed out and spat on the ground outside in disgust. I went to the Grand Canyon and as soon as we got there I knew it was wrong and just turned right back around and headed home. Finally, I thought that I'd go and see the beauty of the Great Barrier Reef, but the day was a bit overcast, there was a bit of a sea breeze and there were sharks everywhere and honestly, next to Ezra's chubby little thighs and lovely big eyes it was all a bit underwhelming . It is very hard being the father of such a lovely child.

Here you can see a familiar view of the Derwent. I like this one, it's very blue and I do like a nice shade of blue. I once knew a person who was very needy with regards to their demands of a friend. They required constant positive reinforcement with regards to all facets of their approach to life. In turn, they were deeply and hopelessly inadequate in reciprocating these demands. One day, this other person – a mutual acquaintance – set about deliberately and methodically dismantling the first person’s sense of self. He refused to laugh at his jokes. He rebuffed his offers of petit amusements . He aggressively denounced his political beliefs and ridiculed his opinion on the arts. Finally, he seduced, and then callously tossed aside this fellow’s much loved lady friend. Interested, I asked him why he had done all of this, and he replied, “I don’t know, I just felt like it and I thought that it would be funny”. He did make funny noises when he cried. I will admit that. Like a pig. ...

I can't decide: standard brooding, handsome – yet slightly dangerous – Henry [above]; or La Nouvelle Vague cinéma menaçant, attractif - encore un peu dangereux - Henri [below]? I remain slightly tentative about manipulating the photographs that I choose to post here, which is really quite strange because back in the dark ages , when I could regularly be found in a dark room surrounded by the (rather alluring) odour of sodium thiosulfate, acetic acid and all manner of chemical goodness, I routinely experimented with the form. Ink, paint, acid, chalk, varied exposure times, solarisation, I didn’t care. You name it, I’d happy splash it about. So why do I feel like manipulating a digital image is a wee bit wrong? At first I thought that it might well be the ease of digital manipulation, but that’s plain silly. In terms of my foray into ‘traditional prints’, the greatest praise was conferred on a series where I ended up mindlessly flicking coloured ink on some unwanted prints with a st...

Also a long time ago, I knew this other guy who – despite a certain level of physical attractiveness – lacked confidence around women. Compounding this was a seemingly insatiable drive towards extreme and prolonged bouts of desire for beautiful young girls. Of course, he never had the nerve to approach these girls and usually stood across the room from them and stared intently for hours on end while drinking incessantly. He thought it gave him a brooding charm. The young and beautiful girls that I knew found him creepy. In his inebriated state, he routinely took up the challenge of dangerous dares. I remember one time when he climbed up onto a very high roof with a plastic lawn chair. At the top, he tied his legs to the chair, and hopped off the edge. On the way to the hospital, I asked him why he did it. He said, “What was I supposed to do? It was a dare.” I told him that girls weren’t impressed by that sort of carry on and he looked at me forlornly, and then he looked at his hideousl...

Some time ago I had an acquaintance who was – at that time – involved with a much older woman who treated him abominably . She would curse at him in public. She would mock his lovemaking abilities in front of mutual friends. She flaunted her (numerous) external dalliances as if they were a virtue. She hit him, bit him, and scratched him. She routinely emptied his bank account to purchase gaudy baubles and trinkets, only to proclaim them “tat” and ridicule his inability to fund more luxurious possessions. One day, she up and left him without a word. “Cheer up old son,” I said to him, “you’re better off without her.” “But you don’t understand,” he pleaded, “they were the best years of my life. She made me so happy .” He was in love, you see.

Here he is again, full of beans as usual. Well, that's actually not quite true. It would be more appropriate to say that he is full of apple , pear and pumpkin . Yes, the littlest, Aussie-est, battler-iest baby going around is utilising both of his teeth to gnaw away on all new sorts of tucker. Like a shark , this lad is developing a taste for all sorts of scrumptious morsels, and once he starts – Pringles or not – he just can’t stop ! It cannot be pure coincidence that since branching out into new forms of grub , Ezra has been sleeping for hours at a time. Moreover, I am mighty thankful that this has happened right now, for I fear the consequences of the unceasing media fellatio on the dearly departed A-grade wanker and professional make-believe artist , Heath Ledger. Seriously people, the guy played dress-ups for a living. You’d be forgiven for thinking that he’d developed the vaccine for polio with all the hype going on right now .

The last of my trio of walls is now posted. Here you can see the winning combination of red brick and sandstone! I like the subtle interplay of colour here. So there are the three. Now I want you guys to tell me which is your favourite. I know which one I am presently leaning towards, but wouldn't mind an idea of what people think.

So here is number two in my planned trifecta of textures. Yes, it's some worn old red bricks, and no, not the same red bricks that I featured last October . These red bricks are on the side of a shop, and at some point must have had an advertisment or mural painted on them. I'm not sure if the degraded brickwork is because of time, or a hurried job to clean off the paint. There are some interesting gouges in the bricks themselves, but I've no idea who (or what) left them there. After reading the past couple of day's newspapers, I have developed a theory: Sharks!

It’s all about the textures this morning. I am on a texture kick, photographing walls, grass, bottles, concrete, water, you name it, and I’m taking a picture. Here you can see some of the fine handiwork of convicts. Working on the premise of “make it fit”, these guys seemed to just shove any old bit of sandstone in to finish it off. It makes for some interesting walls.

Like his grandfather, Henry decided to get his very first tattoo at a young age. Like many a young man, this indelible stain was inked in honour of his very first love: apples . I will be honest though, I am not fond of tattoos, piercings, ear shaping or any of that fandangled nonsense. I’m straight edge me. Decorative body modification just doesn’t rock my boat, it all seems a little bit, well, sad . I’m not knocking other people’s right to do what they like with their bodies, it just seems so superfluous. Even worse, it used to mark you out from the crowd, send a message. Now – as Henry here demonstrates – everybody and his dog has got one (or five). I think not having a tattoo these days marks you out as different. Really, should we resurrect corsetry, cranial binding or that old favourite, foot binding? Are people that keen for a bit of attention?

Can you see it? I can hear it, but can you see it? Go on, it's right there. There ! It's right there! It's not a bird. Do you think that sounds like a bird? A bloody bird . Flipping Nora, you don't know you're born! It's right there!

In what will no doubt shock and offend the photographic fashionistas out there the nifty little web-based image manipulator TiltShiftMaker is designed to give you photos the look of photographs taken with a tilt-shift lens for free. TiltShiftMaker allows you to mimic the depth of field blurring that using a tilt-shift lens would create. You upload a picture from your computer or from the web and from there you can adjust size of the focal area and its location in the picture. Give that a half decent tilt-shift lens will set you back a minimum AU$1,500, I'm happy to cheat with the online version for the time being! Try it out here .

Look at that steely reserve. Check out that iron gaze. This a man sure of his own mind. This is a man born to lead. Just this morning, Ezra was instructing me as I flew the kite. Again and again, he ordered me to give it more string. It got to the point where (sweaty brow and palms) I had to inform him "I cannae give it more string!" You see, there was no more string to give, yet still Ezra drove for more , Suddenly the wind dropped and the kite became entangled in the trees. Henry asked Ezra if he wanted to stop proceedings and try a u-turn. His response? " You turn if you want to. The baby’s not for turning! "