This will hurt me...

Look! Hairy Henry is trying to explain the possibility of life on Mars to Ezra. If it were me, I'd just give him a copy of Hunky Dory , some eyeliner and spandex pants and be done with it!

I'm not sure what these birds are doing lurking up on some luxury flats above Salamanca Square. Whatever it is, it can't be good. I've seen that film by Hitchcock. No, birds gathering, it has to spell doom . As I was looking at this photo, one thing that struck me was the yellow tone. I don't do a lot of yellow, and I don't know why...

Last weekend I was lucky to get an opportunity to spend some time in the company of both lads, with some halfway decent light for a change. This has afforded me the opportunity to snare some good shots. This one I like to call Henry as Audrey Hepburn .

Okay, okay, settle down. It's another "surface of the water" shot. I can't help it that I like them . This one I'll call The Curse of Transcendental idealism or, Wer bin ich? . I don't like the label neo-Kantian . I am far more comfortable proclaiming myself a neo-Fichterian . I proudly proclaim that that self-consciousness is a social phenomenon, and that every subject's self-awareness is predicated on the existence of other rational subjects! Christ, I have to stop reading Kundera on the bus, it brings up all sorts of stuff I thought long buried...

I'm tired, and he's cute. More of the same then...

Theme Thursday yet again, and today the theme is LIMO . One assumes that we are to talk about a limousine , that is, a luxury sedan with a lengthened wheelbase and usually driven by a chauffeur. The cocaine being snorted off a high price call girl's breasts is an optional extra. I think that I am safe to assume that these three are most definitely not waiting for a LIMO. The stop would indicate that the Metro X-press (how hip) to Glenorchy is more likely. As my sloth in getting this post up might indicate, I've been busy, so I've little time to waste! The first thing I think about when I hear the word "LIMO" is wanker a story shared by a world weary colleague who mused on the differences between an American and an Australian , and yes, there is a LIMO involved. In many ways, Australians and Americans are alike. Former English colonies. "New World" rather than "Old Europe". Outposts in a rich an bountiful, yet dangerous and foreboding, land.

"Do you know what it's like to fall in the mud and get kicked... in the head... with an iron boot?" "Of course you don't, no one does. It never happens. Sorry, Ted, that's a dumb question... skip that." I think that I know what it's like, if you think of the iron boot as a metaphor for sheer, utter, short-sighted stupidity and ignorance.

What sort of Mexican food might one expect to find from a place with a neon cactus in the window? It used to do the job, but since its embrace of the "fish-bowl margarita" crowd of screeching happy hour harpies, the quality of the food has diminished in lock with the ambience.

"Please pick me up." " Please pick me up." " PLEASE pick me up." "Pick me up." " PICK ME UP! " "Please pick me up." "Please."

It's off to work, and it seems like I might not be the only one take a detour by the waterfront this morning. Alas, this was last week. This morning we've got snow halfway down the mountain, unceasing drizzle, and a southerly so chilly that it would perplex a penguin. Here is a poem that I have written: A Poem That I Have Written we do that we took that we want that we need that we know that we hope that we wish that we knew that we wanted that we asked that we heard that we stopped that.

Ladies, ladies, ladies. Cool your jets. There's plenty of stud to go aound. Just be patient and wait your turn.

Cockatoos looking for a feed by the side of the highway at lunchtime, Geilston Bay. The cockies are back, and by golly they don't half make some noise! Think thirty newborns eager for a feed, and you're on your way to imagining the delight of a big flock of cockatoos. That said, flock is entirely unsuitable as the collective noun. If pressed, the appropriate term of venery might be " an ebullience of cockatoos ". How about " an exuberance of cockatoos "? " An imbroglio of cockatoos "? " A seraglio of cockatoos "? I dunno. What do you reckon?

Ezra is a Rat . Henry is a Dog . I am a Snake . Jen is a Dragon . Ezra is also a Crab . Henry is a Tampon Set of Scales . I am a Bull . Jennifer is a Bucket of Water .

I've featured a lot of pictures looking north on Elizabeth Street, but from memory this is one of the few taken looking south. This was taken on Thursday, at around 4:30 pm, as I am grumpy waiting for the 4:20 express. Sunday Top Five! A wisp of melancholy and an intense feeling of being old accompanied my oversight of a "best singles on the past decade" list online yesterday evening. More precisely, I either failed to recognise, or flippantly dismissed most of the entries. You see, my formative musical years happened some time prior to the year 2000. Thus, today's list. In chronological order, I present to you My Five Favourite Record Albums of the 1990s ! U2: Achtung Baby R.E.M.: Automatic for the People Pulp: Different Class Radiohead: OK Computer Wilco: Summerteeth Just missing the cut were a long list, culled to a very short list that included: Manic Street Preachers' The Holy Bible ; Portishead's Dummy ; Guided by Voices' Alien Lanes ; Pavement'