Skip to main content

Marriage is a very good thing, but I think it's a mistake to make a habit out of it.


Snug Falls. Snug, southern Tasmania. October 2012.

Theme Thursday and again, for a week we are TOGETHER. Just like these photographs are TOGETHER. Henry and Ezra are usually TOGETHER. Jen and I are more often than not TOGETHER.

Ice creams and sticky hands.

Chocolate and guilt.

Sex and death.

Bert and Ernie.

Wallace and Grommit.

Christmas and regret.

Flags and racists.

Some things just inevitably go TOGETHER.


Jen adjusts. Snug Falls, Snug, southern Tasmania. October 2012.

Comments

Charleen said…
Yikes! So true though. Your poem ellicits strong emotions.
Pratibha said…
Interesting list you put "together" :)
joanne said…
not so sure I agree with your 'couples', but I totally the waterfalls!
Mrsupole said…
Hi Kris,

It is nice to see a family that spends so much time together. And you are right about not making a habit of marriage as in weddings but being married is okay. And chocolate only produces a guilty pleasure and if you die while having sex, well what a way to go. Although if you got a STD while having sex then yeah maybe death would go with it. And that would suck.

Happy Theme Thursday and may your weekend be blessed with togetherness.

God bless.
Catch My Words said…
Wonderful words and photos.


http://joycelansky.blogspot.com
Sreeja said…
true... melancholy..and interesting...:-)

Popular posts from this blog

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...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...