This will hurt me...

Surface. Hobart waterfront, Sullivans Cove. February 2013. Wordless Wednesday.

We need a bigger boat. The Derwent Estuary, as seen from Bellerive. November 2012. The Midwich Cuckoos by John Wyndham: Fantastic premise slightly undermined by sloppy execution. The great set up is spoiled by too many lengthy, turgid monologues. That said, the central theme (i.e. human/ species 'nature', survival and society) is a powerful one, and the conclusion (albeit somewhat predictable) delivers. C .

Wind on the water. Sullivans Cove, Hobart. July 2012. High Rise by J.G. Ballard: a dystopian vision of modern life (written in the 1970s), featuring a stark urban landscape and exploring the ways in which technology can warp the human psyche in all sorts of perverted and nasty ways. Think Hobbes' State of Nature in an apartment block. Ho hum. C- . The Island of Dr. Moreau by H.G. Wells: a dystopian vision of modern life (written in the 1890s). The tale of a shipwrecked fellow 'rescued' by a pair of exiled scientists endeavouring to create sentient beings from animals. Really though, the book is about God, pain and cruelty, moral responsibility, human identity and the consequences of human interference with nature. Terrifying stuff! A- . Cards on the Table by Agatha Christie: convoluted little mystery. The setup? Wealthy eccentric invites four sleuths and four (suspected) to a dinner party and game of bridge. To no-one's surprise the eccentric dandy cops a kn...

No smoke on the water. The River Derwent, Sandy Bay. August 2012. Two books this week. First up, The Death of Grass by John Christopher. This is a neat little post-apocalyptic novel that centres around the human response to a virus that kills off all forms of grass. While the swiftness with which society reverts to savagery strikes me as perhaps a little off, there is great power in the descriptions of man's culpability for the disaster. Indeed, this one is a very prescient book. Recommended. Second up is The Dying Animal by Philip Roth. For a book that is ultimately about sex, it wears out its welcome reasonably quickly. A couple of imaginative paragraphs aside - Roth can write, after all - you can't help but think to yourself, 'get over it, you filthy old bugger!' Only for the keen.

I think I smell a Gruffalo. Lune River, Hastings Caves State Reserve. June 2011. I thought, “What a jolly good idea!” and have thus done so. Healthy and happy kids. A bit of peace and quiet. Fiscal security. Thinking time. A way forward. Temperate climes. Good books. A good night’s sleep. Who put that there? Lune River, Hastings Caves State Reserve. June 2011. I’m not sure what that says about me. My wishes seem very level headed . Hmmmm.

The life of a daredevil is never easy. Cliffs on one side; rocks, sharks and God knows what else on the other… It’s a good thing that Henry has nerves of steel.

Ripples on the Derwent. April, 2010. Saturday mornings are a great time to ruminate on a little e.e. ... your little voice... (I) , E. E. Cummings your little voice Over the wires came leaping and i felt suddenly dizzy With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers wee skipping high-heeled flames courtesied before my eyes or twinkling over to my side Looked up with impertinently exquisite faces floating hands were laid upon me I was whirled and tossed into delicious dancing up Up with the pale important stars and the Humorous moon dear girl How i was crazy how i cried when i heard over time and tide and death leaping Sweetly your voice

An odd place to PARK. Geilston Bay, June 2010. What a place to PARK! That should be a ticket… Yes, Theme Thursday today, and PARK is our theme. I was going to go with “St Johns PARK” – the new worksite – but I have already just done that. Ideas are often like that; they come and go too soon. Which leaves me with today’s photograph. This poignant little vessel, stricken and forsaken on its side like a metaphorical Minke whale stranded on the pebbly-beach of misplaced and premature creative expressions. Artistic endeavours can get quite messy sometimes, to the point that not even the most ingenious of metaphors can redeem it. What You should take from this is that the tricky Theme Thursday topic can be fudged with just a little bit of imagination.

Some weeks ago, Henry, Ezra, Jen and I all set out on a jaunt down the river estuary in the World Famous Hobart Yellow Water Taxi (you've no doubt heard of it). They picked us up just by our door, took us for a bit of a spin - including under the Tasman Bridge - and dropped us off right in town. Here are some shot Henry took as we made our way under the Bridge. We had a good day for it weather wise, and the lads took their first foray into earning their sea legs! Antarctica next. Crossing the bridge this morning - on a bus, overcast and grey - I was struck with three thoughts: Poetic prose as a genre is not really my cup of tea. The current Tasmanian election campaign is the least interesting and inspiring since 1996. I think that I'm burnt out . I'm wondering whether the three are related?

Here is an artsy fartsy black and white taken down at Princes Dock in Salamanca. There's a nice mix of cloud and sunlight, and I particularly like how the reflections on the water to the right look like little stars. I have a poem, one of my own this time: cake , by Kris McCracken cake filled with nuts. rats! nuts! cake filled with nuts, worse than cake filled with rats.

Look Henry! Great White to the port side!

A couple of buoys, waiting for some girls, down in Sullivan's Cove. There are boats everywhere in Hobart at them moment. Sameness , by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Over all hilltops is peace in all the treetops you feel barely a breeze; The birds in the forest have stopped their song Wait, before long you too will be still.

My moles in the ornithological world report to me that this little dickie bird specimen is Egretta novaehollandiae , better known as a White-faced Heron . I got a couple of snaps of this baby down in Cornelian Bay the other day, but couldn't decide if I liked it better in black and white or colour. I thought that I'd post both, and let YOU be the judge.

More water! Above is the river Derwent at its most moody. Apologies for the late post. Meeting after meeting after meeting. You know how much I like meetings...

It isn't every morning that you see a [however small] warship parked out in the middle of the Derwent River! On war - segue like a pro there - I am enjoying what has proven to be a challenging read at the moment: Heinrich Böll's Billiards at Half-past Nine . Like many German novels, conflict lays at it heart. The novel itself is structured beautifully (if a little obliquely). The plot itself emerges through the use of flashbacks by multiple characters, and there are a number of things going on. Being German, there's a central dialectic happening. Loaded with Catholicism, there's another dialectic happening. The tale of father, son, mother, son ensures that there's at least another couple of dialectics happening too. I haven't finished yet, but if you're after a challenging, but rewarding read, I can heartily recommend it!

One day I am going to take the ferry to work. One day. Here is the ferry [I think] MV Jeremiah Ryan cruising its way around Bellerive Bluff. I lost my camera the other day, and I am very down about it.