Skip to main content

Fashions have done more harm than revolutions.


An odd place to PARK. Geilston Bay, June 2010.

What a place to PARK! That should be a ticket…

Yes, Theme Thursday today, and PARK is our theme. I was going to go with “St Johns PARK” – the new worksite – but I have already just done that.

Ideas are often like that; they come and go too soon.

Which leaves me with today’s photograph. This poignant little vessel, stricken and forsaken on its side like a metaphorical Minke whale stranded on the pebbly-beach of misplaced and premature creative expressions.

Artistic endeavours can get quite messy sometimes, to the point that not even the most ingenious of metaphors can redeem it.

What You should take from this is that the tricky Theme Thursday topic can be fudged with just a little bit of imagination.

Comments

Roddy said…
To PARK a boat? Nay,nay,nay. To moor a boat; Please! She may well be beached to scrap her hull. Or perhaps to recaulk the timbers. Or maybe even to patch a hole in the hull. But then again perhaps the tide just went out and left her high and dry.
Tom said…
adventures in parallel parking!
Julie said…
You always inhabit a parallel universe. I love how you respond to Themes. Totally off-the-wall.
Matty said…
I love, love, love the reflection. This would make a perfect shot for the Weekend Reflections theme.
Brian Miller said…
lol. the result of a rather exciting night on the town...
Kris McCracken said…
Roddy, she is PARKed on land.

Tom, failures in parallel parking.

Julie, I am my own man.

Matty, I've not heard of such a thing.

Brian, I can believe that.

Jingle, cheers!
Baino said…
mmm you has a new gaff? Poor boat, looks like an old boot in the middle of the road. Bit lonely
Kris McCracken said…
Why yes. Yes I do.

Popular posts from this blog

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.