A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.

Here you can see the view of Lower Sandy Bay from Battery Point, with a seagull lurking in the foreground.

This photo was taken just down the road from the house that I lived in when I first moved to Hobart. I've got to admit that walking past it reminded me just how bloody miserable I was at the time. In fact, I was surprised that - in 2009 - just how miserable I remember being throughout 1996. I'm not sure that I was fully aware of the fact at the time.

They say that the years between 16 and 22 are the best in your life, I'm quite happy to have found out that this is a crock. Thank god for that.

Sleep or no sleep, I think that I have yet to enter my prime.

Comments

Anonymous said…

There are all kinds of sayings and when you are in your 70s, like me and Patty, and retired, it is not the best time either. I don't know of a really great time but it must be in the middle 30s.

I still have the old blogs but I also have new ones Abe Lincoln Blogs and also look at Abraham Lincoln's Blog

8 January 2009 at 01:32

Debbie Courson Smith said…

I have to agree with Abraham....30s were good. I didn't realize how good they were until they started disappearing, though. I want them back!

8 January 2009 at 02:24

Doc said…

I think the seagull is thinking back to his misspent youth too.

Lovely photo.

Doc

8 January 2009 at 03:25

yournotalone said…

I'm in 30s - not sure if they are good or bad - they are alright. My grandpa is in his mid 80s and he sometimes looks more happy than I am.

8 January 2009 at 06:30

Anonymous said…

No happier time than the present. At 30 something I was happy, today I am content. Is there a difference?

8 January 2009 at 17:41

USelaine said…

I've been miserable and neurotic the whole way through. I'm counting on my 50s to really deliver.

9 January 2009 at 15:38

Kris McCracken said…

Abe, here’s hoping that the middle 30s are it!

Diva, that would be the worst realisation. That’d you figured it out too late!

Doc, it’s a reflective time of the year, I think.

9 January 2009 at 15:43

Kris McCracken said…

Aigars, I would imagine a Latvian man in his eighties has seen a few things over the years!

Roddy, there must be! There has to be damn it!

Elaine, fingers crossed. What happened to the little girl with the curls and green dress?

9 January 2009 at 15:46

Mad as hell

So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

This will hurt me...

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