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Showing posts from March 7, 2010

A healthy attitude is contagious but don't wait to catch it from others. Be a carrier.

de Maistre?!?! You're insane. And you can take your Burkean nonsense and stick it too. Marx was right about that toad to the bourgeoisie.

There are those whom no amount of patience looks likely to improve ever

Here's Mount Wellington as viewed from the south east, from the beach of Opossum Bay. What could be finer when sittung on the beach than reading poems featuring peaches? Nothing, that's what! Aubade: Some Peaches, After Storm , by Carl Phillips So that each is its own, now--each has fallen, blond stillness. Closer, above them, the damselflies pass as they would over water, if the fruit were water, or as bees would, if they weren't somewhere else, had the fruit found already a point more steep in rot, as soon it must, if none shall lift it from the grass whose damp only softens further those parts where flesh goes soft. There are those whom no amount of patience looks likely to improve ever, I always said, meaning gift is random, assigned here, here withheld--almost always correctly as it's turned out: how your hands clear easily the wreckage; how you stand--like a building for a time condemned, then deemed historic. Yes. You will be saved.

Only one man ever understood me, and he didn't understand me.

Saint-Simon? de Maistre on stilts (and amyl)!

I have an existential map. It has 'You are here' written all over it.

You'll note that the jetty you see before you here is the very same jetty in the blog header! Amazing! The jetty can be found here on the eastern shore, right on the edge of Bellerive. It may or may not be true that this very jetty was used as the home base of the Great Penguin Hunt of 1882 , where over twenty-seven million fairy penguins were captured and processed into crumbed morsels passed off as chicken nuggets.

It is a very great thing to be able to think as you like; but, after all, an important question remains: what you think.

Saint-Simon's contradictions amuse me. His rehabilitation of the flesh , I can agree with. His Nouveau Christianisme , less so. I bear no grudge to the notion of a meritocracy, but the vagaries in his though amount to too great a chasm for me to connect.

Domination delegates the physical violence on which it rests to the dominated.

Can you believe it? Theme Thursday already ?!? So, the photo is again one taken on the tidal flat at Five Mile Beach, in the blazing sun. Wouldn't you know it, Ezra and Jen are re-enacting the Burke and Wills trek without HATS! Bloody fools. As anyone who is anyone already knows, it was the distinct lack of hats - with corks - that did poor old Wills and Burke in. That and being a pom and an Irishman in the Australian desert.

Power may be at the end of a gun, but sometimes it's also at the end of the shadow or the image of a gun.

Dude, we're just sitting back in some boxes, shootin' the breeze and breaking each other's balls. Whatchoo doin'?

He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home.

Here is a self portrait of the family out on the very same tidal flat featured yesterday afternoon. Can you pick who is who, from left to right?

The basic stimulus to the intelligence is doubt, a feeling that the meaning of an experience is not self-evident.

Ezra is walking on the sea floor. Yes, the sea floor. Is a tidal flat the sea floor?

Ads that I like: #89

I've found the Stanley Kowalski approach to courtship a winner. There's nothing [NOTHING] that an independent, thinking, successful and confident woman likes more than domination . Like a Subaru front wheel drive coupe; slap her around a bit, and she'll treat you right. This ad has been revisited in the spirit of International Women's Day, which took place yesterday.

Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.

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?

The deed is everything, the glory is naught.

See crab. Be crab. Seize crab. Eat crab. Be crab.

Ideology, politics and journalism, which luxuriate in failure, are impotent in the face of hope and joy.

I have day off today. Eight Hour Day or International Women's Day? You be the judge!

To be able to look back upon one's past life with satisfaction is to live twice.

A nutty subtexture... A hint of chocolate... A tinny residue... Hmmmm.

Cleanliness becomes more important when godliness is unlikely.

Just to the north west of Seven Mile Beach, there is its somewhat lesser sibling Five Mile Beach. At certain times of the day, Five Mile Beach shows off all of the glories that can be found in a tidal flat. Not the least of which is a tendency to mirage. Is that Garden Isle I see before thee? Today's Sunday Top Five? In honour of the terrible twosome, I present to you my Top Five Synonyms For The Word "Disturbance"! Brouhaha Kerfuffle Flap Hullabaloo Ruckus Just missing the cut were hubbub, perturbation, tumult and good ol' maelstrom! I feel all discombobulated now...