Happiness is a choice that requires effort at times.

Bubbles. Bellerive Beach, Bellerive. June 2013.

Theme Thursday? Of course!

There is JUBILATION in the nation even when they’re facing castration while avoiding the conflation of causation and damnation. I express a fixation for an excess of flirtation that at its very foundation is a classic formulation of cessation of narration through the privation of starvation and the utter stagnation and frustration of mindless gyration.

The feeling of admiration, extreme adoration. Adulation of creation, a negation of temptation. Translation and inflammation, your vocation a vacation. A summation of elation to consternation and fragmentation and immediate detonation (followed by a dissipation and distillation): devastation.

JUBILATION?

Try ‘deflation’, ‘degradation’.

Lubrication? Exclamation!

Toleration? Confrontation.

Abdication? Germination.

Abrogation? Desperation.

A classy accusation, a little affectation, a positive affirmation, an allegation, an avocation.

Bifurcation? Escalation.

Disputation? Dissertation.

JUBILATION?

Aberration? Quite the station. A malformation, masturbation.

Comments

Mrsupole said…

Love that the bubbles are from nature and also how you end it with masturbation which can cause some jubilation.

I guess there are a few "tion" words that I have no idea what they mean. Gonna have to get out the dictionary.

Happy TT. Hope you have fun playing around this weekend.

God bless.

20 June 2013 at 21:52

Anonymous said…

Impressive succession of rhyming shuns!

20 June 2013 at 22:21

George S Batty said…

In my younger years it was fun to sing about "reveling in the throes of fornication" and now that I'm old and gray "tion" is all that there is left to revel in". I revel in your ability to "tion" the morning away.
this was a great read...Old Grizz

20 June 2013 at 23:33

Leovi said…

Yes, lovely abstract composition, photographs Wonderful!

21 June 2013 at 18:15

Kris McCracken said…

Thank you all.

The bubbles are (of course) photographed from below!

27 June 2013 at 07:58

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. ...

This will hurt me...

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