This will hurt me...

Escapee dog walks on air. Table Cape, Tasmania's North West Coast. February 2012. This Theme Thursday we are not talking about monkey's in rhinestone vests, we are talking BUBBLES. "BUBBLES?", you ask. Yes, BUBBLES. When I say BUBBLES I don't mean a thin, hemispherical film of liquid filled with air or gas (i.e. 'I'm forever blowing BUBBLES in the air"). Nor do I mean a globular body of air or gas formed within a liquid (i.e. 'fart in the bath'). No, when I think BUBBLES I think of something insubstantial , something groundless , something ephemeral . Not wanting to burst your BUBBLE S , but BUBBLES are usually impracticable illusions. That monkey you bought and stuck in nappies? It's never going to be human! That dog you saw floating in the air up at Table Cape? It was just rounding the crest!

A bee's dream. Grace Street, Sandy Bay. September 2011. There are things that you like and things that you do not like and there are things in between. I suspect that the in-between category is the biggest for me, but by golly "things that you don't like" is a biggun. To Elsie , William Carlos Williams The pure products of America go crazy— mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey with its isolate lakes and valleys, its deaf-mutes, thieves old names and promiscuity between devil-may-care men who have taken to railroading out of sheer lust of adventure— and young slatterns, bathed in filth from Monday to Saturday to be tricked out that night with gauds from imaginations which have no peasant traditions to give them character but flutter and flaunt sheer rags—succumbing without emotion save numbed terror under some hedge of choke-cherry or viburnum— which they cannot express— Unless it be tha...

Here's an old one, Ez in the Botanical Gardens juggling his various bits 'n pieces. Now you know how it feels!