Men who are unhappy, like men who sleep badly, are always proud of the fact.

My baby takes the ~~morning train~~ afternoon bus from New Town to the city, then from the city to Geilston Bay. New Town Road. August 2010.

My God, it is Theme Thursday already. This one is a tricky one: BROWN.

Buses to me are BROWN. Technically speaking, Metro Tasmania buses are actually white and green, with splashes of yellow; but metaphorically, and more importantly metaphysically, buses are BROWN.

BROWN is functional. BROWN is enduring. BROWN in unheralded.

We all need a touch of BROWN in our life, but I’ve never heard anyone claim BROWN as his or her favourite colour.

Here in Australia people clamour to claim their green credentials, but forget that without any BROWN there can be no green. Green rants and raves and pats itself on the back; BROWN just gets the job done.

BROWN is Earth. BROWN is work. BROWN is triumph without adulation.

Nobody cheers a bus; but buses get me from A to B.

Comments

smudgeon said…

I used to participate in the Metro (or MTT) experience on a regular basis when I lived in Hobart. I agree: buses are definitely brown.

5 August 2010 at 09:01

Tom said…

i live in a community where every home has 2.5 vehicles...hurray for the buses! wish we had a decent mass transit system

5 August 2010 at 09:19

Jim said…

Great bus shot.
Sydney - City and Suburbs

5 August 2010 at 15:41

Julie said…

You are an example of obfuscation, par exemplar!!

5 August 2010 at 18:10

Brian Miller said…

that is a really cool shot kris...i thought taking the bus was green...

6 August 2010 at 06:55

Kris McCracken said…

Thanks all, poor turnout for last week's Theme Thursday!

12 August 2010 at 08:50

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.

This will hurt me...

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