In times of rapid change, experience could be your worst enemy.

40 or 20, YOU decide. St Johns Park, New Town. May 2011.

Day two of the final week in New Town, three more to go. You will be pleased to hear that the next office will be located a little closer to the water, and I might get the opportunity now and again to brighten things up with a little morning on the waterfront action.

By that I mean sea birds, mist over water and the odd sun burst; not a surly, pouty Marlon Brando. “Charley, it was you! … He gets the title shot outdoors on the ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palookaville! You was my brother, Charley, you shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn't have to take them dives for the short-end money.”

Consider Sandy Bay this year’s Palookaville.

Comments

ratatouille's archives said…

Hi! Kris...
(Laughter...When it comes to the Brando comment. I watch the Brando vehicle once...Therefore, I must re-visit that film.)

"Day two of the final week in New Town, three more to go..."

Great news! Thanks, for sharing the "semi-scary," but oh so true quote too.
DeeDee ;-D

31 May 2011 at 14:13

ratatouille's archives said…

"40 or 20, YOU decide. St Johns Park, New Town..."
Kris,
I would have to say, 20 before the-powers-to-be [tried to hide the 40] and changed it to 20...

31 May 2011 at 14:19

ratatouille's archives said…

Kris...Make my last comment a vice-versa...It was the No# 20
and the city workers(?) tried to convert(sp) it to the No# 40...I knew that I was going to be confused.

31 May 2011 at 17:01

Roddy said…

Forty is the new twenty! If you can't take them out at twenty, then hit them at forty.

31 May 2011 at 17:18

Kris McCracken said…

I reckon that it was 40 and they’ve changed it to 20, but hope that people do 40 so that they can book ‘em!

1 June 2011 at 10:08

Roddy said…

The two appears to be too faded to be recent. The four however looks newer.

1 June 2011 at 20:37

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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