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Showing posts with the label Sandy Bay

I wrote a poem

Experiment on the way home #1. Sandy Bay Road, Sandy Bay. July 2013. Here is a poem that I wrote in two minutes about another poem that I wrote in one minute. I consider it... ...an experiment. I Wrote A Poem , Kris McCracken I wrote a poem once. It was a good poem. A poem like no other poem you have never heard. The poem - that I wrote - a draft a play a practice exercise game. It was a good poem. But I threw it away. Experiment on the way home #2. Sandy Bay Road, Sandy Bay. July 2013.

The good man is the man who, no matter how morally unworthy he has been, is moving to become better.

Sunshine on my shoulder in my eyes makes me happy kind of annoys me.

My way of joking is to tell the truth. That's the funniest joke in the world.

Two little boats. Long Beach, Sandy Bay. February 2013. Today's Sunday Top Five is a very special one. Yes, it is Events That You Can Only Celebrate In May! May 7: C'mon . Don't make me say it ... May 9: National Lost Sock Memorial Day May 10: Clean Up Your Room Day May 29: End Of Middle Ages Day May 30: My Bucket’s Got a Hole in It Day

There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humour and hurt.

Just beneath the surface. Errol Flynn Reserve, Sandy Bay. April 2013. Chopin's Move , Jean Echenoz: Very French. I didn't like it much. F . The Day of the Triffids , John Wyndham: Another bleak novel from Wyndham. I hadn't read this since high school, but for some reason had the urge to revisit it. The story rollicks along easily enough, even if it never quite manages to convince... C+ .

I give you an onion.

...and ye shall find. The junction of Sandy Bay Road and St Georges Terrace, Battery Point. March 2013. I think that onions make more sense from Valentine's Day gifts than chocolates. We should all try to embrace the genus Allium . Valentine , Carol Ann Duffy Not a red rose or a satin heart. I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. I am trying to be truthful. Not a cute card or a kissogram. I give you an onion. Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips, possessive and faithful as we are, for as long as we are. Take it. Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring, if you like. Lethal. Its scent will cling to your fingers, cling to your knife.

We do not talk - we bludgeon one another with facts and theories gleaned from cursory readings of newspapers, magazines and digests.

The darling buds of March. Princes Street, Sandy Bay. March 2013. The Sirens of Titan , Kurt Vonnegut: I like Vonnegut very much, but must admit that I found this one a bit of a chore. It has an impressively woven sprawl, but I dunno, seemed a little to contrived for my tastes. C- . I Am The Clay , Chaim Potok: An American Rabbi explores the Korean War through the eyes of an old couple and a young orphan. You wouldn't think that it would work, but I thought that it was first rate. I thought that you'd struggle to find a bleaker work than The Road , but this hits you harder because the journey is so depressingly plausible. Not for the faint-hearted. A- . Mrs. Hollingsworth's Men , Padgett Powell: Okay, I hated this book. Really hated it. Call it surreal. Call it post-modern. Call it meta. Whatever. I call it self-indulgent rubbish. F .

He knew human folly like the back of his hand

Over the fence (and out). The [former] Chickenfeed carpark, Sandy Bay. March 2013. Everywhere you look there are tyrants. I'm tempted to say that this is a new thing, but am reasonably certain that they've always been around... Epitaph on a Tyrant , W. H. Auden Perfection of a kind was what he was after, And the poetry he invented was easy to understand; He knew human folly like the back of his hand, And was greatly interested in armies and fleets; When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter, And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

When a thought is too weak to be expressed simply, it is a proof that it should be rejected.

More smoke! Errol Flynn Park, Sandy Bay. March 2013. Another stolen Q and A from Sunday Stealing: The Basically Obscure Meme-Part 2 . 38: How did you spend Valentine’s day? Much like any other work day. I've never been someone to be told when and how to express my emotions. 39: Do you eat enough vegetables? I think that I do. I eat more than most. 40: Do you like horror movies? How about thrillers? They're okay. I'll be frank though and admit that I've had little time for films in the past six or seven years. 41: Do you like scotch? ? Not particularly. 42: Who is someone you would never swear in front of? I avoid swearing in any work context (unless I'm very sure of the sensitivities of the person that I'm talking to). 43: Coolest thing you've ever seen on Halloween? We don't really have Halloween here in Tasmania. I did like the film, however. 44: If you could change your natural hair colour, would you? To what? I'm happy wi...

Freedom can occur only through education.

The right pair of feet can be incredibly interesting.

It is a very delicate job to forgive a man, without lowering him in his own estimation, and yours too.

Henry does his best impression of a wombat. On a beach.

Words are often seen hunting for an idea, but ideas are never seen hunting for words.

Faith. Greek Orthodox Church, Antill Street, South Hobart. January 2013. The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder: A cosmic exploration into the meaning of life (and death). Heavy going for such a short novel. C+ . Extreme Animals: The Toughest Creatures on Earth , Nicola Davies: In many respects, this stands as a paean to the magnificent Tardigrade . Excellent stuff. B+ . Inside Hitler's Bunker: The Last Days of the Third Reich , Joachim Fest: The definitive text on the subject, it seems almost passée but I defy anyone to read this book and not put it down every few pages and scratch your head wondering how things ever got to where they did in Germany. Frightful. A- .

I am better than my reputation.

Wires. Quayle Street, Sandy Bay. December 2012. Sunday Stealing: The 11/11 Questions meme What is your favourite possession? Probably my camera. Do you like to read? If so, which books do you love best? I love to read. I'll read most things, so am not sure I can pin down any particular type that I "love best". My list of favourites contain a lot of dark novels, however. Do you have any pets? No. Unless you count two rug rats. What was your favourite food as a child? Is it the same now? I probably liked sausages best. I still do, but I don't think that they are my 'favourite' any more. What is your favourite thing about blogging? Interacting with people from all over the world. If you could live anywhere, where would it be? Somewhere close to the beach. What is your favourite number? Seven! Which of these things would you find hardest to give up for a year? Chocolate, reading, coffee or smoking? Reading. Without a doubt. I've ne...

She looked like something that might have occurred to Ibsen in one of his less frivolous moments.

Henry, or Lesley Hornby? YOU decide!

Patience is the art of hoping.

Walking home. Nanny Goats Lane, Battery Point. December 2012. Wordless Wednesday.

Is it a right to remain ignorant?

Angel. Kirksway Place, Battery Point. November 2012. Christ I've been busy today...

Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory.

Lunch. Errol Flynn Park, Sandy Bay. October 2012. Wordless Wednesday.

The daughter of one of these gentlemen is pretty.

Lesbian lovers. Outside the Casino, Sandy Bay. October 2012. I like seagulls. A lot of people don't, but I do. Some people think gulls are foolish. Native Americans thought that gulls were tricksters. Richard Bach thought that they were clumsy metaphors for the patently obvious. I dunno. I like 'em. So did Chekhov. The Seagull , by Norman Dubie Chekhov, at Yalta A winter evening at the cottage by the bay, And I sat in the black and gold of the dead garden Wrapped in blankets, eating my sister’s suet pudding. The fountain was wrapped in dirty straw and Just below my property in the old Tartar cemetery There was a small funeral in progress: the widow Is wearing a purple shawl, the children are bare around The shoulders and the girls are wearing orange petals At their throats. The ashen white beards of the men Are like immaculate vests from this distance. There is nothing more intolerable than suet pudding, Unless it is the visitors. The drunken visitors ...

It is one thing to show a man that he is in an error, and another to put him in possession of the truth.

Not quite ideal stone-skipping technique...

He who praises everybody, praises nobody. 

You might have seen this somewhere before... The Derwent Estuary, looking over to Tranmere and beyond. July 2012. Theme Thursday ? Stormy, eh? Looks okay to me...

I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble.

How many children can you see?