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Showing posts from May 31, 2009

What's in a name? That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet.

Here is Henry checking out a ye olde shoppe in the ye olde towne of Richmond. It was kind of embarrassing, actually. He went in there and said something, and from what I could tell, there seemed to be a heated discussion of some sort. I went in to check it out and Henry was telling the old woman behind the counter what a nice shoppe it was, how it would be "a real shame" if there was "an accident" or something. Then he knocked some fine china off the shelf, and she started crying and I hustled him out of the joint. We're going to steer clear of Richmond for a little while. At least until the heat cools down a bit...

There is but one thing without honour; smitten with eternal barrenness, inability to do or to be: Insincerity, Unbelief.

A morning stroll. Brisk winter's air. A bit of sun. Plenty of birds. What could be finer? This one was taken just the other day over the road from our place. They are a mix of sea birds here: Silver, Pacific and Kelp Gulls, for the most part. I've noted a couple of memes doing the rounds of late, and bereft of any better ideas, thought that I'd tackle the harder one first: things I love . Away we go! 1. Most Loved Food: Difficult opener. Right now, I am thinking "Icy Pole". 2. Most Loved Person: A three way tie. You can guess who they are. 3. Most Loved Job: I can't say that I could ever apply the term "love" to any employment I have ever held. I'm struggling to think of a "least loathed". Tutoring online University courses was okay, if a little frustrating at times. At least it could be done from home. That said, they can attract some loons, and manners are a rare commoditiy... 4. Most Loved City: I did like Nürnberg very much.

A companion is but another self; wherefore it is an argument that a man is wicked if he keep company with the wicked.

Some boats awaiting their task down at the Geilston Bay Boat Club. I like the composition of this one, if it isn't too vain to say. I'm busy at the moment trying to finish something, hopefully it will bear fruit!

One cannot use one's logic to explain actions driven by others' logic.

Here is another one of a smiling Ezra, I am aware of how popular that seems to be. No time to talk, as I am busy preparing a top secret and extremely important document !

The distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.

So yeah, it’s Theme Thursday again. What’s more, it’s kind of relevant to where my head has been as of late. I say kind of because it is one degree of separation removed from the today’s theme, but well within the spirit! So tell me, dear reader, what is the first thing that comes to mind when I say “ CLOCK ”? If you’re wired like me, you’ll be sagely scratching your chin, suppressing a tear and muttering to yourself “TIME”. TIME . There is rarely enough of it. I took the above photo the Wednesday before last. I was sitting in the front passenger side of the car, on the Gordon’s Hill Road/East Derwent Highway intersection. The connection that this photo engenders to me with the concept of time is somewhat ambiguous. When I look at this sky, awash as it is with colour as day bleeds into night prompts a very specific memory, albeit of a sky in a different place and separate context. I have an incredibly vivid recollection of swimming in the ocean under a similar sky. Of cours

Doubt grows with knowledge.

Henry plus stick equels Myra Hindley!

A man must not deny his manifest abilities, for that is to evade his obligations.

Of late, Henry and I have taken to reviving ourselves by taking in the invigoratingly brisk winter's air on morning strolls on the weekend. The lassitude of a sedentary, indoor life that winter often begets must be resisted, thus we proceed down to the water to observe the comings and goings and wax lyrical about a diversity of topics: man's inhumanity to man; the declining industrial output of Latvia; Lacan's Signification of the Phallus in relation to the town of Ulverstone ; and whether Di , Mary or Ian Thorpe truly is the Princess of Hearts . Most of all though, we look at the birds. Here you can see our good friend Larus pacificus (the Pacific Gull at the back), with six fine Larus novaehollandiae (the Silver Gulls in the foreground). These fellows were spotted on the Geilston Bay Jetty, and were hanging about looking for a bit of fine Tasmanian seafood.

The face of a child can say it all, especially the mouth part of the face.

In a companion piece to Ezra on the Swing , I ingeniusly call this Ezra on the Slide . Stay tuned for Ezra wrestles the Crocodile ! [Ez wanted to dedicate this smile to Delhi's finest, Priyanka , for her birthday...]

Tact is the discrimination of differences. It consists in conscious deviations.

Here is the view up Elizabeth Street towards the bus mall on a brisk winter's afternoon. There is something inherently melancholy about the kind of afternoon light that can be found in winter. I like it, but then again, I’ve been known to stroll along that road on occasion. I suppose that perhaps it isn’t the light that’s melancholy though. Perhaps the problem is a little closer to home. If only there was some kind of standardised measure of melancholy to help. The Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale is of no use to me, and Warwick-Edinburgh Mental Well-being Scale is a joke. That said, anything to do with Warwick Capper is a absurd as a rule. [See what I did there?] I re-took Dr George W. Crane’s Marital Rating Scale (and scored rather excellently , I might add) but that was no assistance! In a rut? Tick . Bored? Tick . Listless? Tick . Lacking enthusiasm? Tick . Frustrated? Tick . Cynical and contemptuous to others? Tick . Irritable and curt to wife and children?

I don't think I'm alone when I say I'd like to see more and more planets fall under the ruthless domination of our solar system.

Here is Henry with something brown and sticky. He'd spotted a tiger snake, and was keen to give it a few WHACKS , but I counselled him in the way of the dragon, which actually ended up with Henry kicking Chuck Norris from pillar to post in the Colosseum to prove that non-violence is the answer (or something). I'll be honest with you, I'm not sure that pacifism really suits my Hank...

In the end, glorification of splendid underdogs is nothing other than glorification of the splendid system that makes them so.

Ah the Irish! With their lovable exhalation of the joys of alcoholism and glorious failure! We had a lot of Irish convicts sent down here in Tasmania, by and large they were a amiable bunch of rapscallions with cheeky grins, a love of gin and a desire for little more than good craic, a sing song and a pratie for tea. They also fuelled the explosion in public drinking houses. Especially ones run by fellows named "Murphy", "O'Reilly" and "Fitzgerald". Here are some pubs in the Salamanca district. I know that erstwhile commentator Miles speaks ever so highly of their security staff. I am not the best person to comment however, as the last time I was in a pub, Saddam Hussain was still alive, Britney was sane, John Howard was smiling and I could sleep in on weekends.

We tend to scoff at the beliefs of the ancients. But we can't scoff at them personally, to their faces, and this is what annoys me.

Ezra has a James Dean in East of Eden kind of vibe going on here. No, there's no Cain and Abel subtext, and he's not even interested in fast cars, but at the very least, he's the right height! While Ez remains an ebullient character, with a foudroyant smile, a mellifluous laugh, has even added the fine art of waving to his oeuvre, his recent tendency towards equal parts wailing and sleeping during 'nap time' in the day is rapidly wearing thin.

Thinking no longer means anymore than checking at each moment whether one can indeed think.

This is a house of God. Apparently. It seems he has extravagant tastes. This is St David's Cathedral - the most obscenely overblown principal Anglican church in Tasmania - which was built between 1868 and 1936. As you can see, it was built in the Gothic Revival style. Westminster Palace she ain't, but it's all we've got! A cavalcade of grizzling, sulking, wailing and everybody shouting at each other, prompted a group decision to take a road trip to Richmond this morning. As is our wont, we conducted a "roadkill challange", with the somewhat surprising result of: Possums (my tip): THREE Wallabies (Jen's tip): THREE Wombats (Henry's tip):ZERO Rabbits (Ezra's tip): FOUR As usual, Ez was the victor. I guess that we can safely declare rabbits the loser on the day.