As a rule, a beautiful woman is a terrible disappointment.

Someone is playing silly buggers! Regent Street, Sandy Bay. September 2011.

My Top Five Words Favourite Words [Today] The Don't Have A Direct English Translation!

Mamihlapinatapei
A Yagan word for the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start. Jennifer and I know this look all too well...

Ilunga
A Tshiluba word that describes a person who is ready to forgive and forget any first abuse, tolerate it the second time, but never forgive nor tolerate on the third offense. It is safe to say that I am not really an ilunga.

Torschlusspanik
A lovely German word that literally translates as “gate-closing panic,” but contextually, it implies the fear of diminishing opportunities as one ages. How very appropriate!

Ya’aburnee
One from Arabic now, a lovely little word that basically means “You bury me”. The desire for burial reflects the hope that one will die before one's partner because of how difficult it would be to live without them. Selfish, but understandable.

Dépaysement
Of course, we can't miss French. I like this word that refers to one feeling 'out of place' in one’s home country. I imagine that we have all felt this at one time or another.

Comments

Roddy said…

Is it a weed or a sign from above?
Where do you get these words? Or better still, what are you thinking when they come to you? It can't possibly be work.
Or in your field perhaps it is.

2 October 2011 at 16:31

Kris McCracken said…

Reading passes the time.

8 October 2011 at 18:20

Roddy said…

Difficult to read when I am pulling an engine apart.

8 October 2011 at 21:42

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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