The fundamental concept in social science is Power, in the same sense in which Energy is the fundamental concept in physics.

Dude looks like a cabbage. Sandy Bay, April 2011.

I’ve not idea what this plant is, but I think I like it.

I was going to write a poem today about Tasmania, but I couldn’t find a good enough rhyme for “deindustrialisation”.

I was also going to look into Buddhism, but all that cycling of suffering, death and rebirth gets me down.

It’s been raining for four days and I am starting to get sick of it.

Comments

ratatouille's archives said…

Hi! Kris...
The photograph is..."beautiful!

Kris said,"I was going to write a poem today about Tasmania, but I couldn’t find a good enough rhyme for “deindustrialisation”...
LOL!

Let hope that it doesn't rain for 40 days and 40 night!

The quote is very intellectual? scientific? Nice quote!
Thanks, for sharing!
DeeDee ;-D

13 April 2011 at 14:59

-K- said…

Four days of rain? That happens once every few years here in LA, where this kind of plant is quite common. There are some growing in the courtyard of this apartment, as a matter of fact.

15 April 2011 at 00:45

Kris McCracken said…

DeeDee, that's Mr bertrand Russell...

-K-, no rain at the moment. There are plenty of grey clouds though...

15 April 2011 at 11:54

Roddy said…

It is a succulent of the cacti family. My grandfather grew virtually thousands of them when we were kids.
How about Sanitisation? Perhaps that isn't a word but it rhymes with what they are doing to our state.

15 April 2011 at 12:53

Kris McCracken said…

That doesn't rhyme.

15 April 2011 at 13:24

Roddy said…

Deindustrialiation.
Sanit i satition.
It rhymes to me.

16 April 2011 at 16:39

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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