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Showing posts from July 3, 2011

The only normal people are the ones you don't know very well.

Have you ever tried to mount a cast iron statue of a dog with a studded collar? Don't...

I will grieve alone

I suspect that no gardener lives here. King Street, Sandy Bay. July 2011. James Wright is one of my favourite poets. I can't comment on whorehouses in Wheeling, West Virginia... In Response to a Rumor That the Oldest Whorehouse in Wheeling, West Virginia Has Been Condemned , by James Wright I will grieve alone, As I strolled alone, years ago, down along The Ohio shore. I hid in the hobo jungle weeds Upstream from the sewer main, Pondering, gazing. I saw, down river, At Twenty-third and Water Streets By the vinegar works, The doors open in early evening. Swinging their purses, the women Poured down the long street to the river And into the river. I do not know how it was They could drown every evening. What time near dawn did they climb up the other shore, Drying their wings? For the river at Wheeling, West Virginia, Has only two shores: The one in hell, the other In Bridgeport, Ohio. And nobody would commit suicide, only To find beyond death Bridgeport, Ohio.

One of the delights known to age, and beyond the grasp of youth, is that of Not Going.

...and now presenting the "unique" comic stylings of Mr Henry McCracken!!!!

The possession of a book becomes a substitute for reading it.

Home (to the left and upstairs) from mid-1996 until early-2002. Sandy Bay Road, Sandy Bay. July 2011. Two very different books this week. First up, Aharon Appelfeld's Badenheim 1939 is an odd, dreamlike novel set in an imagined Austrian resort town at the beginning of the Second World War as groups of middle-class Jews arrive to spend another idyllic summer vacation at an annual arts festival. There is a fair whiff of Kafka in Appelfeld's restrained prose, and the incongruity of the characters’ struggle to maintain (simulate?) normality against the intimations of the approaching catastrophe. Although the reader has no choice but factor in the impending Holocaust as both the historical backdrop as well as its imaginative focus, the author deftly does so from surreptitiously and achieves a subtlety that you would think impossible. The awkward ignorance of what is to come for the vacationers dominates this book. Spring is in the air and summer is about to blossom as the vast rang...

Man knows much more than he understands.

I hope that the dimples never fade away...

There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.

It's all about your perspective. Marieville Esplanade looking up Napoleon Street, the Sandy Bay/Battery Point border. July 2011. I always think that if you find yourself out and about armed with a camera and don't come home with dirty knees, you haven't done all that you can do in pursuit of a halfway decent photograph. Granted, the older I get the more difficult it is to get back up without straining some muscle somewhere or dislocating a kneecap, but are we not supposed to suffer for our art? Now I'm not talking about nailing one's old fellow to a two by four or self flagellation atop a canvas. I just mean get down in the dirt and check out those parallel lines. Tired of another photo of the clouds? Try it lying flat on your back. You might be surprised at what you see if you mix you angles up a bit.

Love involves a peculiar unfathomable combination of understanding and misunderstanding.

Henry relaxed as we head due South towards the Tasman Bridge in the water taxi. [For those inclined, that is long-time comments stalker Roddy's arm in shot...]

Nothing is so difficult as not deceiving oneself.

Lord won't you save me because I sure have sinned... St George's Anglican Battery Point, as seen from King Street Sandy Bay. July 2011. When I first moved down to Hobart I used to live directly opposite this church. It was lit up with spotlights all through the night and would ring its bells religiously every Sunday morning. ALL morning. Christ it was annoying.

If only we'd stop trying to be happy we'd have a pretty good time.

Ezra and some of his favourites from his rock collection....

Men have become the tools of their tools.

The closest we'll come to having a dog... The living room, Geilston Bay. June 2011. A pretty pound puppy living in a Duplo duplex being fed bricks with a plastic pitchfork? Very much the only dog I will be letting in our house! Even that one was a loaner from Henry's kindergarten... I'm more a cat man than a dog person. Dogs are always whining and begging. I've already got enough of that around the joint thank you very much.

Children are educated by what the grown-up is and not by his talk.

One of the bonuses of the new place of work is that this park is a mere two minutes away (on foot)! As you can see, Henry now feels as if he owns the place.

It is better to entertain an idea than to take it home to live with you for the rest of your life.

Self portrait during a lunch break. Russell Street, Sandy Bay. July 2011. I do a reasonable line in obscure self portraits. If it is not shadow , it is a reflection . If it is not a reflection , it is a foot . Sometimes it is feet AND a reflection ! A foot viewed from different angles is essentially a different foot. Sometimes it just IS a different foot . Of course, no one shadow is the same as another . Shadows come in all shapes and sizes . Just as a reflection and a reflection can be very different beasts. Sometimes you just happen to be in the right place at the right time . Self-portraits can be deliberate , incidental or just plain unique .

Beware how you take away hope from any human being.

I'll give the two little blokes their due, when we were in Melbourne I reckon that they walked over 25 kilometres each!

Death is not the worst that can happen to people.

Ezra walks tall. Cremorne Beach, Cremorne. June 2011. Like sands through the hourglass, these are the days of our Sunday Top Five. Honestly, days are seemingly shorter, time increasingly constricted and I find myself hurtling towards oblivion at a rate of increasing knots. Alas, one cannot avoid one’s self-imposed commitments so let me turn yet again to an inimitable and meaningful top five... In a revolutionary reflexive result, I’m giving you My All Time Top Five Top Fives (Up To This Point)! Five Reasons That It Might Take You Five Minutes To Walk From The Corner Of Davey Street To The GPO in Hobart! McCracken's Tasmanian Tigers All-Time Squad! My Top Five Reasons Why Melbourne Is Better Than Sydney! Top Five Things That Australia Leads the World In (beginning with the letter ‘S’’! My Top Five Ever Karaoke Performances! Ez, Jen and Hen hunt for crabs. Cremorne Beach, Cremorne. June 2011.