Skip to main content

A hallucination is a fact, not an error; what is erroneous is a judgement based upon it.


Carruthers looms in the mist. St Johns Park, New Town. August 2010.

Mornings like the one depicted above do nothing for one’s enthusiasm from work. That said, dazzling sunshine with birds merrily singing, children gaily bounding, and Hungarian washer-women happily whistling snippets of Bartók doesn’t exactly fill me with zeal to get inside under [far too many] fluorescent lights and sit down in front of a computer either.

I need that glass box. By the beach.

With an urn.

And a fridge.

And fruit.

Pineapple.

And grapefruit.

And an early minute.
Labels:

Comments

Roddy said…
Get a job like your dad! You will get your hands dirty, but alas you will still work most of your time under fluorescent lights. The occasional stint in the open air seems to make it worth while though.
You will have to sever all ties with your family (for lengthy periods of time). But the time spent at home can be rewarding.
15 September 2010 at 19:36
smudgeon said…
It's a horrible, lurking sort of thing, isn't it?
16 September 2010 at 08:31
Kris McCracken said…
Roddy, I've just shifted jobs and recieved what amounts to a 35% pay rise, I'm not looking to change again real soon.

Me, it reminds me of the Hotel in The Shining...
16 September 2010 at 08:37
Roddy said…
Like you my son, this was entirely flippant. You have chosen your destiny. Right or wrong. I tried your line of work forty five years ago. It didn't work for me. Your future however points toward your working in an office. All I can do is wish you luck.
Unfortunately we encounter many disappointment in life.
16 September 2010 at 09:38
Kris McCracken said…
You worked in drug and alcohol policy?
16 September 2010 at 10:12
Roddy said…
No! I worked in an office, but I did imbibe quite enthusiastically in alcohol.
I guess I became quite the expert.
16 September 2010 at 13:14
Post a Comment

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...
5 comments
Read more

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...
38 comments
Read more

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.
36 comments
Read more