Between flattery and admiration there often flows a river of contempt.

Divorcee? Colville Street, Battery Point. August 2013.

PEACE.

Comments

Interesting. Stumbled upon Theme Thursday hop and thought I'd check out the players in hope of linking up next round. It's nice meeting you!

I invite you to link up with me on...
Thursday Thoughts: Parenting, Favorite Age, & Nates

PS: Do you play the Wordless Wednesday (photo display opportunity) hop?

22 August 2013 at 21:20

Kris McCracken said…

Cheers, I will pop around and have a look!

22 August 2013 at 21:42

Mrsupole said…

Maybe they are thinking that if you are a true feminist then you should not be taking a bus, that you should be jogging or finding your own way around. I think that most of us joined that movement without really understanding the consequences and how it would change the lives of the females around the world. Or that it would be an ongoing battle for the rest of our lives. Just a different battle during this age and time. The battle is not so much in the western countries but more in the eastern countries and the uneducated backwards countries. It is now to just give these women some basic rights and to not be treated like slaves. I feel that this battle will still be going on a hundred years from now. But I also think that the feminists can go too far and that some are so radical that they forget women should have the right to choose how they want their lives to be, not dictated by someone who wants to control them.

What a crazy world we live in. There are just too many control freaks out there.

Happy TT and may you have a warm week with only a few zombies visiting you.

God bless.

24 August 2013 at 01:49

Kris McCracken said…

Choice. That's what matters. Whatever the choice.

9 September 2013 at 21:26

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

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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