Photography is not about the thing photographed. It is about how that thing looks photographed.

Hunting for flowers. Mount Wellington. January 2013.

Sunday Stealing? That's right! The Triple Threat Meme, to be precise...

Three names you go by, other than your given name:

“McCracken”, “Dad/ Daddy” and “You”.

Three screen names you've had:

I use my real name when online. It’s a personal ethics thing.

Three things you like about yourself:

Hmmm. I think that I am reasonably frank with people. I like to think about things. I also think that I have pretty good manners.

Three things you don't like about yourself:

Hmmmmmmmmm. I’m a bit judgemental. Probably too disciplined for some. I can get a bit narky on occasssion.

Three parts of your heritage:

Scots. Italian. Tasmanian.

Three things you are wearing right now:

Shorts. Underwear. Shirt. That’s all I’m wearing!

Three favourite bands/ musical artists:

Too hard to isolate three. Making the short list off the top of my head: Wilco, Morrisey and David Bowie.

Three favourite songs:

Right now? The Spencer Davis Group’s Gimme Some Lovin', Belle and Sebastian’s The Boy With the Arab Strap and Marah’s Phantom Eyes.

Three things you want in a relationship:

Stability. Honesty. Affection.

Three things about the preferred sex that appeal to you:

Curves. Smell. Interest.

Three of your favourite hobbies:

Photography. Reading. Getting out and about to look at things.

Three things that scare you:

Responsibility. Irrelevance. Stupidity.

Three of your everyday essentials:

Camera. Energy. Open mind.

Three places you want to go on vacation:

Scandinavia/ Russia. Central Europe. Polynesia.

Three careers you have considered/ are considering:

Gigolo. Layabout. Dreamer.

Three things you want to do before you die:

Sail somewhere. Go on a long train ride. Read more books.

Three things you want to do really badly right now:

Go for a swim/ snorkel. Eat some decent grub. Have a cuddle.

Comments

Mad as hell

So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...

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. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

This will hurt me...

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