This will hurt me...

KL asked after the previous post for a comparative image of Henry at the age Ezra is currently at. Ever the accommodating fellow, I've excavated the archives and located one which should give you some kind of idea about the massive animé eyes that both of my sons have been blessed with. I can see these dudes batting their impressive eyelashes at the ladies for years to come.

Here is the happy little Vegemite having a bit of a look around now that he has achieved efficient rolling capacities . Like Henry as a bairn, Ez can make it from one side of the living room to the other in the blink of an eye. That’s not really a problem unless he’s headed into the uncharted waters of the kitchen bench stools, with their propensity to be pulled down on one’s noggin. Oh well, lessons must be learned the hard way sometimes! So I was talking about decisions , and talking about thinking about decisions , and I started to talk about actions . When I think about it, it is actually the action that is the difficult part; the decision is the easy bit, any mug can make a decision; following through on decisions is more fraught with danger (the known unknowns , I guess). But what cost not acting ? If the die is cast , the cards are dealt and the rationale is clear , then the difficult decision is in fact an easy one; what is the price of failing to act? Decisions are good. Ac...

Here you can see Henry saying " Happy Birthday Nana ". He's a generous chap in that regard. I was talking about decisions and all that. Thinking about decisions, especially what are ostensibly difficult decisions, the worrying aspects primarily concern the externalities of the situation: the known knowns are fine, the unknown knowns must not be relevant, the known unknowns can’t be controlled and the unknown unknowns really don’t matter. All that you’re left with is action ...

Here is the little bloke letting everybody know what he thinks about this thing we call "solids". In conjunction with Henry, Ezra and Jennifer, I've come to a decision. There is something terribly liberating about making an important decision. Often, such decisions seem far more difficult than they actually are, and when you stop for a moment, clear your head and have a good hard think about it, it’s then you realise that in reality, it’s actually one of the easiest decisions you’ve had before you...

I am a firm believer that there is no greater gift that a father can bestow on a toddler than their very own handgun . In the interest of safety, I regularly allow Henry and Ezra to cavort about in bed with Iver Johnson Revolvers , because they are perfectly safe (aside from their ability to kill and maim, that is).

Sometimes you get a very dull morning, and the lights on 'the shed' are on and seem brighter than they should be. This was one of those mornings. Rather than bore you with my writing this morning, I want to revisit a moment early on in one of my all time favourite reads, Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. It concerns an argument between Yossarian (the hero of the tale), and Clevinger (one of the hero's foils), about the risks invloved in daylight bombing missions: “They’re trying to kill me,” Yossarian told him calmly. ”No one’s trying to kill you,” Clevinger cried. ”Then why are they shooting at me?” Yossarian asked. ”They’re shooting at everyone,” Clevinger answered. “They’re trying to kill everyone.” ”And what difference does that make?” I'm with Yossarian here, and think that the point translates well into other spheres of human interaction. That's not to say that I dislike Clevinger though. I've always liked him as a character. That said, as a similarly pragmatic...

Two photos featuring moi in less than a week, what a lucky lot you are! This here is a self portrait taken a couple of days ago as I traipsed into work, reflecting upon the dreary world of the wage slave and went about imagining a far more interesting existence, as is my wont these days. This is notion of self reflection and imagination leads me to today’s Theme Thursday theme, one close to my heart: the blessed Library . Now come on, give me a chance, the segue is not as tenuous as you might think. As I have noted time and time again of this very blog, my entire family – even dear little Ezra – is equipped with a well worn library card. Not a week goes by when we’re not returning back twenty or so books to our local branch, only to ferry twenty or so more home. It’s a pleasure you see. As you can see in my sidebar, I’ve just about finished Towards the End of the Morning by Michael Frayn. It’s a clever little satire detailing the struggle against encroaching entropy of a few i...

The big boys court is just up the road from my work, which means that if you walk down that street of a morning, you often see the real nasty characters innocent until proven guilty being loaded from a cage on wheels into a cage around a door (leading to another cage just inside the door, one suspects). I usually have the camera safely tucked away, lest we have some kind of misunderstanding . justice a full Phil meant nothing of it. "a joke, a stupid joke gone wrong" (fuck forgive me look at me don't judge me) to the charge in court (a full six months later) phil could only say "sorry" nothing (quite so dramatic) was intended.

Here is the little la terreur de la nuit himself, going through his rigorous regimen of calisthenics, aerobics, tai chi and yoga. He generally spends a good few hours a day working on his strength and his stamina . He is a firm believer in the maxim of a healthy mind and a healthy body , and is a young man not to be reckoned with. Last night, Jennifer and I found out just how effective the diminutive warrior’s stratagem of looking innocent but plotting anarchy is when backed up by exceptional physical and mental capabilities. The sheer force of will to scream, wail and generally carry on had us both up and down throughout the long and brutal hours of darkness. I don’t believe that his machinations and manoeuvrings are part of a broader plot to attempt a putsch – as I suspect the case to be with dear Henry – but I think that Ezra is attempting a more complex , multifarious form of psychological warfare . The intentions of this subterfuge is beyond my tired and feeble mind, wh...

I honestly don't know what these vegans are on about sometimes, there's no shortage of animals delighted to volunteer to be eaten . They're just killjoys. Who are they to take away the one thing that these upbeat beasts love so much?

This supermarket trolley was just sitting on Parliament lawn one morning. Just sitting there like the Mary Celeste . No idea how it got there, as the nearest supermarket would be a good few kilometres away by foot (with a ruddy steep hill as well). I liked the mystery of it, so I wrote a poem about it. i did. i never did understand. i did i never ever did understand. understanding understand? never did i did. never. did. under. done. could. maybe. never. i didn't couldn't wouldn't shouldn't. do you understand that i never did. confidence. thing a. our. i did. never. understand.

Here is Henry looking shifty. I've now had two of those days, and there is no escaping the fact that it is going to be one of those weeks.

There are so many alternatives. There is blue, there is black. There is walking, there is running. There is fish, there is door. There seems to be nothing left to the imagination any more. There is you sitting in a green plastic chair. You wear a light blue shirt, thin, yet suitable for this time of year. Your trousers are tan, but some refer to them as bone. You smile and feel pleased with yourself, You have had nature explained to you but now find yourself bored with it. There are no more questions left. I found myself perched up on the roof. It was raining. At least it felt like rain. There were no monkeys on the rooftop, only sparrows. Yet the sparrows were rats and the rats were cats and the cats all wore bright orange raincoats badly stitched up. So I jumped. This is a low. And frankly, it causes me no end of worry. I forget things all the time. Big hats. Big hats don't mean anything to me these days. The rum rebellion does not seem all that important and I'd like to k...

Sometimes there really isn't anything that you can say. It has been one of those days.

As a repayment to Jen for posting her picture up last week, I felt it my duty to square up today with this shot of hers of Ezra and myself in the shower. Consider it payback for Henry too, as he was snapped in the shower way back in June last year. Ezra is quite a fan of the shower actually, very keen to have the water stream down his face, which I am told some kiddies don’t like at all. I don’t know, both mine seem to like it. You might have noticed some odd bits and pieces cropping up on the blog here and there. Forgive the indulgence, but I am fobbing off some creative writing upon you poor hapless soles. Both to test stuff out, and to relieve me of thinking up a whole other bunch o’ nonsense to post two or three times a day!

Leaning back, he sits as he was taught at primary school, erect and upright. Moulding his spine to the straight-backed, uncomfortable orange chair he appears awkwardly tall. Looking down at his hands he loudly cracks each knuckle, startling with the left, pinkie finger until he reaches the opposite on his right hand. Forehead glistening in the harsh tube light, he possesses an impersonal face that offers despondency to all who encounter it. His large brown eyes soak in sadness, expressing his reality, even as he tries to smile. A swollen, crimson nose rises out of the centre of his face to give him a listless appearance. An overly large mouth, lips concealing uneven teeth, together with jawbone and cheekbone extend the face beyond normal length. His pale, wan complexion coupled with a semi-permanent scowl display a quality if not attractive, the actuality of this face reaches at least some degree of uniqueness. This may be due to the room, the fluorescent lighting, the achromatic setti...

Here is an image that is a nice approximation of a lazy Sunday here in Hobart. Not that many actually own boats of course, but it's easy enough to find one to look at. The rich in Tasmania haven't quite managed to fence out the rest as they appear to have elsewhere. That said, I'd rather a kayak anyway. A boat seems like too much hard work. The bonus with a boat however, is that it would enable me to finally get that Great White Shark that Henry and Ezra have been pestering me about.

Here's a video of Ezra to savour. Henry makes an appearance too. I know that there are certain connoisseurs out there who have been agitating for more videos. I apologise. You can stop pestering now.