In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.

You've been TRAPPED!!!

Have you ever seen that television programme Trapped? It's a popular item in our household. At the very least, it's a remarkable opportunity to test you abilities at mastering the art of the many and varied accents of the United Kingdom...

for three Ghanaians plus three equals three / Ghanaians still

Snow joke. Mount Wellington, as seen from Geilston Bay. July 2011.

Ezra's birthday party is due to begin in one hour's time. I hope that by the time this post goes up:

i) the cake is done and dusted,

ii) the party bags are brimming with goodies,

iii) the children are dressed, fed and watered, and,

iv) the sun is out.

But first, a poem...

More Hope More Dust, Kojo Laing

Three Ghanaians have taped goats’ backs, they block the dung.
I
By the dust-blown koobi stands a chief on one leg,
AM
taped goats grunt and move their dust onto the flat fish,
OBSESSED
and to the raised one leg the horn sends a low sympathy
WITH
of music, for three Ghanaians plus three equals three
Ghanaians still,
THE
who stand behind the bus and admire the exhaust-pipe
TOUCH
freshly sweet with sugar-cane that was exhaustedly brought
OF
as the goat escapes with a powerful blast, its
SKINS
own anti-hoarding exercise done through the hide of the rump.
AT
The chief dancing with the other leg expects koobi
in the evening
BUSY
provided his wives can get round the power of horn music.
DUSTY
The sympathy is higher, lies on the motoway of a tall
Tamale man,
PLACES
but the horn is full of dust, it blows a tactile music,
BUT
so that at last three Ghanaians reduce themselves yet
still remain three.
IT
The free goats attack the Ghanaians, the revenge in the hoof
rises,
IS
in the dust the koobi turns over to its wrong side, parries
the commotion,
THE
the chiefly leg fed with fish is seriously dancing, it goads
the horn
FORGOTTEN
as the bus groans off spreading memories with its exhaust,
high
FUTURE
there the fighting goes on regardless: see the authority
in kicking,
THE
the Ghanaians bleat, the goats cry,
FORGOTTEN
they change hides but can’t hide each other, even in dust,
dust,
HISTORY
the hearts of goats become the hearts of Ghanaians,
THAT
the hoof is a fist, the finger is a tail,
SHAMES
and over where the ground steadies them there is a wall:
ME
for out of the fight, out of the bruises
AND
rise man and beast, beast part-man, man part-beast,
ALL
spectators scatter, chief is one fin of koobi, hornblower
turns to dust,
THESE
the Tamale man is an Accra cat: call him claws.
MYSTERIOUS
Millions of Ghanaians bleat with one lip in the mornings,
BODIES
cry later with the other lip hot,
PULLED
they frighten the silent watcher with the free mouth,
BY
who sees the changes career about in history,
and who, who
A SLY
waits patiently for the beast parts to wither,
WILD
waits for the bruise and fight
FATE
to change to the forward creative thrust: More hope!
More dust!

Let's knock that high dynamic range down a little. Mount Wellington, as seen from Geilston Bay. July 2011.

How hard, how bitter it is to become a man!

Preparations are already underway for a tilt at the Sydney-to-Hobart yacht race this year. There are but two hurdles in front of us:

1: We don't have a boat.

2: We'd rather go from Hobart-to-Sydney (and back again).

I'm sure that we'll win if our demands are met.

No people come into possession of a culture without having paid a heavy price for it.

Birds on a pontoon, Tranmere in the background. Long Beach, Sandy Bay. June 2011.

Two very different books this week.

First, Love and Death on Long Island by Gilbert Adair centres on the development of an obsession that in many respects greatly resembles Death in Venice (which I only read for the first time earlier this year). There’s no doubt that the allusions to Thomas Mann’s classic text are quite deliberate.

Like Death in Venice, the story concerns an aging, widowed and renowned ‘high art’ British novelist/academic with classical tastes who is somewhat out of step with the modern world. By a chance of fate, he encounters the figure of a C-Grade teen Hollywood heartthrob. Instantly enraptured by the ‘innocent’ beauty of the lad, and quickly becomes obsessed with the young actor. The concepts that have driven our narrator's life - logic and reason - are ultimately set against a concept that he has up to this point only ever really known in a philosophical sense: passion.

The drama derives from the act and consequence of an individual driven to enter a world utterly foreign to him – trips to the cinema ( Hotpants College II), snipping out photographs of teenybopper magazines, the world of video rentals (Skid Marks and Tex-Mex completing the oeuvre of interest). The infatuation eventually compels a trip to the US to engender an improbable meeting. Like the trip to Venice in Mann's book, the obsession with a love that can never be fulfilled means that the trip is essentially one of destruction.

This might seem a farce, but the book is nothing of the sort. Beautifully and convincingly constructed, the story constantly drives towards a conclusion that can only end appallingly for all concerned. The desire of a young mediocre American actor baffles our protagonist, but the compulsion to be entwined with a source of something inherently desirable – beauty, youth, lost time, a new world – utterly entrances him.

What I love most about it is the gentleness in how it recognises that when our lives change, they do not always change for reasons that we understand or can control. Despite us knowing from the very start how this story will (must) end, the journey is worth it. Overall, it is an incredibly thoughtful, touching, and really very moving novel, and I couldn’t recommend it more highly.

Second is one of the rare longer non-fiction works that I occasionally dip into. The reason why I chose A Short History of Finland is relatively simple: I find Finland very interesting. This book is a quick romp through the the historical development of the country from its settlement by the Finns in the first millennium AD to now, exploring their connection with Sweden, the relationship with Russia that has dominated more recent Finnish history, and the post-war achievements of the second republic.

The reason that Finland interests me is quite straightforward: it’s interesting! Think about it: a small nation with limited natural resources and on the periphery of global events somehow went from being a secessionist backwater – that could not even feed its own inhabitants – of the failing Russian empire at the beginning of the century; to emerge from a civil war at the birth of one’s nationhood; rebuild its economy in the centre of a global depression; then partake in not one but TWO destructive wars with an infinitely stronger neighbour; rebuild yet again in the context of a Cold War with the constraint (and opportunity) of living right next door to the Soviet Union and end up with perhaps the best educational system in the world and to be constantly ranked as one of the world's most peaceful, competitive and liveable countries.

That is the sort of tale that makes for an interesting short history! Recommended.

Every revolutionary ends up either by becoming an oppressor or a heretic.

You can forget your expensive electronic gizmos and gadgets. All you need to have a good time is a bit of space and two empty milk containers...

I do not believe in the collective wisdom of individual ignorance.

Coming events at Flamingos Bar... Liverpool Street, Hobart. July 2011.

If you haven't guessed from the events board above, Flamingos is a happening Tasmanian venue dedicated to the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender community and their friends and families. I am not sure where they stand with regards to the intersex people - their website was silent on the matter - but one assumes that they would also be made welcome. Their families and friends? Well, that is an entirely different matter....

I like to consider myself extraordinarily broad minded (some of my best friends are furries) and I am very much a supporter of those of us who are natural left footers. Gay marriage? Gays have as much right to be as miserable as anybody else! Indeed, the best and only advice that I have to anyone who doesn’t like the idea of gay marriage is not to marry one.

That said, I’m not sure that the Homo High Annual High School Theme Party™ is entirely the best idea, given some of the Palaeolithic attitudes and assumptions that many people hold about natural left footers in the community.

Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them.

Sometimes all in life you really want to do is sit atop a giant chick on a spring and watch the heavy machinery go about its business.

A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know.

Trust me, it looks nicer when the vines have leaves. Duke Street, Sandy Bay. July 2011.

In the interests of getting some words down for a post today, I have borrowed these NINE Questionable Questions from this bloke here.

Thanks, this bloke!

History has taught me that the trick to getting the most fruitful responses is to zip through them like a rabbit escaping the clutches of a vengeful gardener with

Cheers to all of us thieves!

1. If your lover betrayed you, what will your reaction be?

Et tu, Jennifer?

2.If you can have a dream to come true, what would it be?

To stay asleep a little bit longer.

3. What is the one thing most hated by you?

Just one? Hmmmmmmmmmm.

Inequity.

4. What would you do with a billion dollars?

Relax.

5. Could you fall in love with your best friend?

Too late!

6. What do you expect of your loved one?

Understanding.

7. How would you see yourself in ten years time?

Satisfied.

8. What’s your fear?

Being found out.

9. What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?

Check Google Reader to see what's happened in the world.

A child cannot be taught by anyone who despises him, and a child cannot afford to be fooled.

You know that it must be a particularly special day when we've gone and purchased bananas for His Royal Highness...

Cuius testiculos habeas, habeas cardia et cerebellum.

Part six of six.

Latterly...


Hamming it up. Eaglehawk Neck. January 2011.


A little fresh. Opossum Bay Beach, February 2011.


A late summer icy pole. Seven Mile Beach, March 2011.


This is it. The Cenotaph, Hobart, April 2011.


Hoorah! Geilston Bay, June 2011.

Happy birthday Ezra, you're a lovely lad!

Ridentem dicere verum quid vetat

Part five of six.

The moody years...


Should be sleeping. Home, Autumn 2010.


Yes. Home, Winter 2010.


Baby it's cold outside. Home, Winter 2010.


Whatever ya reckon. Home, Spring 2010.


Refugee. Home, Spring 2010.

Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum, Multa recedentes adimiunt.

Part four of six.

The mellow years...


Christmas! Home, December 2009.


Take me to the place I love, take me all the way... Montague Bay, January 2010.


Traveling in style. Don River Railway, Forth. January 2010.


Hitching a lift. Fossil Bluff, Wynyard. January 2010.


The artist at work. Home, Autumn 2010.

Exegi monumentum aere perennius.

Part three of six.

The theme here seems to be one of dribble...


Front yard hunk. Winter 2009.


Taking some rays. The living room, Winter 2009.


On the move. Geilston Bay Community Centre. Winter 2009.


The curls arrive... Home, Spring 2009.


Three of us. Home, Spring 2009.


Yo Henry, Ezra! Home, Spring 2009.

Ad unguem factus homo

Part two of six.

A beautiful baby blossoms...


Ice cream baby! Sullivan's Cove, Summer 2009.


It's all in the eyes. Geilston Bay, Autumn 2009.


JAWS! Geilston Bay, Autumn 2009.


Good Friday in the gardens. Royal Hobart Botanical Gardens, April 2009.


Deep in thought. Home, Winter 2009.

Nemo vir magnus aliquo afflatu divino unquam fuit.

Excuse the interruption for this special message...

HAPPY THIRD BIRTHDAY EZRA!!!!

Thus, we shall celebrate in the usual This is Your Life-style with a trip through the three magnificent years that Ezra has spent on planet Earth...


47 seconds after birth. RHH Birth Centre, July 2008.


Day four. Home, Geilston Bay. July 2008.


After dinner nap. August 2008


Brothers! Home, Geilston Bay, Spring, 2008


You handsome devil! Home, Geilston Bay. Summer 2009.

This is part one of a six part series...

The great act of faith is when a man decides he is not God.

You would never guess it, but the man who has earned the moniker "Cranky Hanky" occasionally gets grumpy.

I for one blame his mother...

A particularly beautiful woman is a source of terror.

Almost invisible fish. Melbourne Aquarium, April 2011.

Oops.

I forgot.

I did however attend a lovely birthday party this morning.

Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.

Check out that form: straight back; firm neck; legs together; body equidistant to arms...

Yessiree, that some mighty fine slidin' technique on display here...

Every nation ridicules other nations, and all are right.

Some kind of plant. Duke Street, Sandy Bay. July 2011.

Sunday already which means time for another Sunday Top Five.

Hmmmmmm,

Alright, today I can offer you the Top Five Record Albums That I Believe That I Have Listened To In Their Entirety From Start To Finish The Most Times! Perhaps betraying the different ways that we listen to music in the past decade, all bar one appeared pre-MP3 era (and even then I was still a CD holdout in 2001)...

• Achtung Baby, U2



• Automatic for the People, R.E.M.



• Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Wilco



• Fuzzy, Grant Lee Buffalo



• The Queen is Dead, The Smiths

Now, I need to know from you what particular album has had the highest rotation in your life?