In the sandpit. Again . March 2010. We've been spending an awful lot of time in the sandpit. I'm breaking convention today and pasting Henry and Ezra in the morning, as my two little men fit the poem. Do yourself a favour and read it. Men , by Maya Angelou When I was young, I used to Watch behind the curtains As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men. Young men sharp as mustard. See them. Men are always Going somewhere. They knew I was there. Fifteen Years old and starving for them. Under my window, they would pause, Their shoulders high like the Breasts of a young girl, Jacket tails slapping over Those behinds, Men. One day they hold you in the Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you Were the last raw egg in the world. Then They tighten up. Just a little. The First squeeze is nice. A quick hug. Soft into your defenselessness. A little More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a Smile that slides around the fear. When the Air disappears, Your mind pops, exploding fi
Sunrise to the east of Geilston Bay, April 2010. Why does Autumn have the best colours? Why do geoducks look the way that they do? Do conjoined twins pay for one ticket or two tickets when they go to see a film? Why are people so unkind?
Two seagulls in the sun at Opossum Bay. March 2010. Theme Thursday . Hmmmm. My tendency to pick the image and title prior to learning the topic often makes it hard. Here we go: Here you can see picks number 19 (foreground) and 23 (background) in the twenty-seventh annual Tasmanian seagull DRAFT. 19 is a lithe, cheeky, receiver- sort who's good on the outside of packs with a healthy turn of pace. 23 is a more old fashioned, in-and-under type who doesn't mind getting his knees dirty and has excellent core strength. He lacks somewhat in pace, but makes up for it in heart. I've got a lot riding on these two.
Coming in to land at Hobart International Airport (as seen from Seven Mile Beach). February, 2010. By the time that this post appears, I shall have already been up in a plane - very much like this one - and stalking the mean streets of Melbourne. I'm hoping that I manage to escape the hotbed of gangland mayhem and murder without a hit being taken out on me. Thankfully, three things rest in my favour: i) it's a fly in and out all in the one day; ii) I'm not sure that the drug king pins are too fussed by me; iii) there is an ever increasing shortage of drug king pins to be fussed.
Here is a nifty little ad from China circa 1952 with the catchy slogan of " Resolutely cut off the bloody and criminal hand of the American aggressor that spreads germs ". It's something that modern day ads often miss these days: the fine art of subtlety .
Empty rubbish bins waiting to be taken in along the East Derwent Highway in Geilston Bay. April, 2010. For some people, putting the bins out and bringing them back in constitutes the sum total of their exertions for the day. That thought depresses me. Yesterday was something of a victory though, I only had to righten three bins on the trip from the bus stop to home. That pleasure should depress me. Do you righten other people's bins when you walk up the footpath? If not, why not?
Tall ship is Sullivan's Cove as viewed through the window of a water taxi, March 2010. I've just finished reading the blackly comic (and unremittingly bleak) The Restraint of Beasts by Magnus Mills on the bus in this morning. By golly if there was ever a book to explore the notion of work as a domineering force in the lives of workers, this is it! Check it out, even if your headspace is akin to mine at the moment.
If you're in a car, don't even bother! Battery Point, April 2010. Some bloke once sang "Signs, signs, everywhere there's signs, blockin' up the scenery, breakin' my mind". Don't I know it, Five Man Electrical Band . Today's Sunday Top Five? My Top Five Favourite Signs! 5: Anything Featuring Wombats 4: The Little Bloke Swimming With The Crocodile 3: Pervert Manhandling Young Girl 2: Hump 1: Concealed Entrance