For the purposes of poetry a convincing impossibility is preferable to an unconvincing possibility.

Here is Henry a few weeks back jiving to the strains of the Bee Gee's Night Fever.

If Henry had a beard, he'd easily pass for Barry Gibb. I expect that this will change when he hits puberty, and can no longer hit those high notes...

True eloquence consists in saying all that is necessary, and nothing but what is necessary.

The Tasman Bridge as viewed from the north-east, at some point on the Derwent foreshore between Geilston Bay and Lindisfarne Bay. Ezra snapped this one at the same time and place as yesterday's shot.

As for yesterday itself, I managed to snare some impressive images (before the camera battery died, a lesson for a all on the importance of recharging before heading off on a day out). Thus, while I got both lads with an assortment of animals - Henry with koala; Ez assaulting a rabbit; all of us fleeing a crafty and aggressive cabal of angry emus etc - I missed the all important Bengal tiger and blood-spattered lion.

Pictures to come!

No one is exempt from talking nonsense. The great misfortune is to do it solemnly.

I'm thinking that this one would be good on the inside slip of Ezra's debut LP. It's such a shame vinyl has been technological superseded, as its sheer size offered a host of possibilities for artistic expression.

Under capitalism, man exploits man. Under communism, it's just the opposite.

Here is an assortment of rocks, birds and flora along the Derwent foreshore (on the eastern side). This photo was taken as the lads and I enjoyed a stroll along the riverside on my day off last Friday.

This Friday, we are off to see some tigers, lions, monkeys and maybe even a rogue wombat or two. Expect photographs.

A four day working week is indeed a most excellent thing!

'You may call it "nonsense" if you like,' she said, 'but I've heard nonsense, compared with which that would be as sensible as a dictionary!'

Henry's prawns are intact, but his horsey's are vulnerable to a flanking manoeuvre. He better be careful though, because the increasingly mobile Ezra - he can run now - has his eyes set on the castles...

We didn’t have metaphors in our day. We didn’t beat about the bush.

Hurrah! Theme Thursday is upon us again, and my tendency to pick the image and the title before looking at the theme has again seen me located precariously between a rock and a hard place.

Despite what you are all thinking, and notwithstanding the firm, proud-looking member above, the theme today has nothing to do with the sexy world of horticulture. Not one jot. No, today were are talking COLLECTION, and when I think COLLECTION I think “phallus”!

Huh?!?

Phallus.

Well, more precisely, the cruel notion of phallocentrism, or – if you like – the COLLECTION of phalluses that poke and prod their filthy way into every facet of human society!

It’s no point blaming Derrida people. Yes, he was a filthy-minded Frenchman with a predilection for intellectual masturbation [there’s that phallus again], but bear with me here...

Phallocentrism is the notion that the operative principle of culture is male-dominated. MEN!

Just as the phallus is implicitly – and more often explicitly – assumed to be the only significant sexual organ, the masculine is accepted as the central point of reference for society, the only source of validity and authority!

Moreover, everywhere I turn a phallus! Even a pleasant stroll in the park is ruined by the ripe, firm young budding manhood blossoming thing photographed above. Distressed, I turn around and there sits Empress Towers! Like Cathy flailing about on the moor, tears in eyes I make my way back to the office to find a banana on my desk!

When will it end?!?

Things may come to those who wait. But only the things left by those who hustle.

The square up for yesterday's photo of the terrible threesome, here you can see me trying to wrangle a couple of slippery customers. It's not easy.

That said, I managed on Monday to pick them both unwilling customers up and carry them out of a toyshop, all the while carrying a bag chock full of supplies.

My arms still haven't forgiven me...

True Story

I doubted her bold claims to being action oriented (given her [ahem] sturdy figure), but by golly, you should have seen her dive for that last piece of cake!

Words are good servants but bad masters.

Another Spring morning in Hobart of course means more rain, snow again on the mountain and 4⁰C greeting me on my walk into walk today. Oh for the heady days of summer! Above are some Salamanca sweltering in the heat.

To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved.

How about this motley crew of chancers?

Fair dinkum, trying to take a photo where these three are even vaguely all looking in the right direction, with none of them pulling a silly face or looking off their nut, is a big ask!

This is even more difficult, when the camera these days has assumed an almost mystical ability to draw children's hands to it the moment that it appears!

Assassination is the extreme form of censorship.

Let us not forget the forgotten victims of the torrents of rain Hobart has seen for the past four months: the worms. I photographed this worm holocaust in a Battery Point park. Yes, it is the broken bodies of millions thousands hundreds dozens tens of worms drowned in a ditch. It was a difficult image to capture through the tears.

For the things we have to learn before we can do, we learn by doing.

Ezra is learning to eat without help.

He's getting there.

Slowly.

As an interesting point of comparison, here is Henry coming to grips with yoghurt way back in February '08 (which would make him a few months older in that photo than Ez is now).

A whole is that which has beginning, middle, and end.

Flowers, the Tasmanian Parliament, a big blue sky and 10 Murray all in one shot! What more could one want?

Even better, we have been fortunate enough to go three straight days without rain!

I'll be winning Lotto next (and I don't even play Lotto).

Challenge, and not desire, lies at the heart of seduction.

I've heard people say that too much of anything is not good for you, baby.

Oh no.

But I don't know about that.

There's many times that we've loved.

We've shared love and made love.

It doesn't seem to me like it's enough.

There's just not enough of it.

There's just not enough.

Oh oh, babe.

We can only learn to love by loving.

I won't give away the answer, but my clue is that today's photo is of a ship berthed down here in Hobart ALL winter. It doesn't have the nerve to tackle a REAL Antarctic experience and sail about with right and proper icebergs. Word on the street is that they are set to leave on a vital and top secret mission designed tohttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif end the scourge of global warming!

Yes, they'll be measuring penguin farts.

Time for the Sunday Top Five!

Today I am tackling my Top Five Australian Birds!

5: Galah;

4: Emu;

3: Kookaburra;

2: FairyLittle Penguin;

1: The Splendid Wren!