Let a hundred flowers bloom: let a hundred schools of thought contend.

They put me up in Chinatown. Staying in a former opium den, I suspected that the Triads have an investment of some kind in the joint. That said, I'd rather the Triads on my side than on the other side.

Notorious gangland activity aside, Chinatown sure can put of a spread in the grub department. I gave the flamethrower duck a miss [c'mon fellas, was it really necessary to leave the head, neck and feet on? That's no way to dispose of a body!].

However, once you get past the heads, feed, gizzards and so on, you can discover a whole world (well, continent) of very lovely food. That's not to say that creepy-looking food can't mean tasty-eating. I just don't have the nerve to nibble on a deep fried duck's bill - Daffy, what have they done to you?!?! - while his cold, unforgiving eyes stare straight at me, judging me, reproaching me.

I am certain that it would mean indigestion.

Comments

yournotalone said…

Love Chinese food, dude.

28 November 2008 at 11:27

Sue said…

Cody and his crew eat in Melbourne's Chinatown most Friday nights. The best banquets for minimal money...wonderful for uni students on budgets!

28 November 2008 at 22:32

Kris McCracken said…

Aigars and Sue, I am a fan too, but will admit that I made a poor call and had some uninspiring Chinese food during my stay.

The Korean place that I ate on Monday was excellent!

1 December 2008 at 10:37

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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