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Showing posts from September 1, 2010

I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.

Shoulders back Henry! Head up! Goodness gracious child, you walk like a peasant!

Ads that I like: # 114

Finally! Irrevocable proof! Jesus was a traitor! Imagine that, anointing the Fritz on the way to butchering the good guy. What a bugger. I’d love to see the logic behind the central tenets of Christ that would generate an assumption that he’d be anointing his approval of trench warfare…

A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything.

"The Hall", formally a church. St Johns Park, New Town. August 2010. Struggling for ideas, I dipped my toe into the Intertubes for ideas and plucked out the My Life in Films Meme . At one time in my life, I watched a lot of fillums. Now I have children, and I watch Shrek every few weeks. Feel free to steal and apply as you see fit. Films That Remind Me of Childhood Anything featuring Sylvester Stallone punching people, getting punched, or blowing things up. The brother and I were avid fans of Sly and all things Stallone. That said, I wanted Ivan Drago to triumph and demonstrate the historical inevitability of Communism. Things obviously didn’t go to plan. That said, nothing beats Rocky or Rambo at the Drive-In (remember them?) Childhood Films Where Removal was Necessary I don’t remember much about it, but I am told that there was a traumatic response to that part in The Muppet Movie where Animal eats one of the "insta-grow" pills, turning him into a giant. I bel...

Only on the edge of the grave can man conclude anything.

Two of my lovelies, one of them grumpy, which is which?

Money can't buy you happiness but it does bring you a more pleasant form of misery.

Can we walk on water? Risdon Brook Dam, August 2010. Henry is distraught that the local source of water – Risdon Brook Dam – is not infested with crocodiles. The only succour for him is that it is highly unlikely that a mighty and angry salty will emerge from the tap during a bath and vigorously demonstrate the death roll .

Ingratitude is the essence of vileness.

Henry is quite the artist. In fact, I share this wonderful portrait that he has prepared on that finest of artistic forms: the Magna Doodle . Can you guess who the subject is?

All things atrocious and shameless flock from all parts to Rome.

NAB HQ. Corner of Elizabeth and Liverpool Streets, September 2010. The National Australia Bank (or NAB) is one of the largest financial institutions and banks in Australia in terms of market capitalisation and customers. Apparently, NAB is ranked the seventeenth largest bank in the world measured by market capitalisation. That makes NAB bigger than such luminaries as Citigroup (US), Morgan Stanley (US), Barclays (UK) and Deutsche Bank (figure it out yourself). Just for the record, the NAB is only the third largest Australian bank, so we’re punching above our weight in the global financial world down here in Oz. Which leads me to today’s Sunday Top Five , the Top Five Things That Australia Leads the World In (beginning with the letter ‘S’’ ! Sheilas : this one should come as no surprise to anyone paying attention. Australian sheilas are renowned the world over for their good likes, fine figures and filthy mouths strong opinions. One simply cannot compile a list such as this without the...

All movements go too far.

This photograph would make an excellent passport picture for the big little man. I figure that there is no way in the world that airport authorities could ever mistake him for a terrorist.

We are the famous metaphor from Heraclitus the Obscure

Kayak on the Derwent. May, 2010. One day – I promise – I will kayak to work. What’s the point of living next to a river estuary if one does not kayak to work? We are the time. We are the famous , Jorge Luis Borges We are the time. We are the famous metaphor from Heraclitus the Obscure. We are the water, not the hard diamond, the one that is lost, not the one that stands still. We are the river and we are that greek that looks himself into the river. His reflection changes into the waters of the changing mirror, into the crystal that changes like the fire. We are the vain predetermined river, in his travel to his sea. The shadows have surrounded him. Everything said goodbye to us, everything goes away. Memory does not stamp his own coin. However, there is something that stays however, there is something that bemoans.

Is man one of God's blunders? Or is God one of man's blunders?

There is a time when me must sling their hook over their shoulder, and go their own way in life. This was one of those time. Fortunately, they came back.

Out of timber so crooked as that from which man is made nothing entirely straight can be carved.

Looking north at lunchtime. St Johns Park, New Town, August 2010. Did you know that the island of Tasmania is the twenty-sixth largest island in the world? Well you do now. Wondering what to do at lunch. St Johns Park, New Town, August 2010.

In every real man a child is hidden that wants to play.

Ezra does his best impression of Jimmy Barnes (back when he was on the grog).

One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important.

Rowing on the Derwent on a cold Winter's morn. Derwent River (with Bellerive in the background). June, 2010. Theme Thursday and it appears that everybody has GONE FISHING. “GONE FISHING?”, you say. GONE FISHING. I myself have rarely GONE FISHING. I’ve gone snorkelling; gone kayaking; gone running; gone swimming; gone off; gone on; and gone apeshit, but I believe that I have GONE FISHING two, perhaps three, times in my life. It’s the guts I don’t like. I can handle the killing no problem, but the ritual disembowelment in such exhibitionist fashion seems to me profoundly disrespectful for the dear fish’s family and friends. Give the poor creature some dignity! I’ve long queried the extended airtime given to the multitude of television programs dedicated to the men who have GONE FISHING. While I have no ideological, intellectual, ethical or indeed stylistic opposition to such programs, I wonder why it is seemingly okay to broadcast reel after reel of some pitiable pilchard in its d...

A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.

You know that movie The Thin Red Line , where that bloke who was Jesus had a lot of long, ponderous interior monologues? Looking at this photograph to me prompts a soft, searching Midwestern US drawl meditating on the realities of man's inhumanity to man, nature and God. I've really got to get Henry trained on that Midwestern US drawl...

What is wanted is not the will to believe, but the will to find out, which is the exact opposite.

Looking for the sky and wondering if the rain or the bus will arrive first. Campbell Street, Hobart. August 2010. I know that I am late and I can’t stay long, sorry ! Things are a little hectic…