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Showing posts from February 27, 2011

Patriotism is the willingness to kill and be killed for trivial reasons.

The dynamic dudes are checking out the fishing to be found down at the renowned honeymoon destination of the tessellated pavements at Eaglehawk Neck. We were hoping for Great Whites, but all we found was dogfish.

I practically know the difference between serums and antitoccasins.

Beautiful little yellow flowers. Eaglehawk Neck, on the way towards the Devil’s Kitchen. January 2011. I am many things: lover, poet, father, bureaucrat, bon vivant . Conversely, there are many things I am not . Chief of which this week is efficient trench digger . No Doctor's Today, Thank You , by Ogden Nash They tell me that euphoria is the feeling of feeling wonderful, well, today I feel euphorian, Today I have the agility of a Greek god and the appetitite of a Victorian. Yes, today I may even go forth without my galoshes, Today I am a swashbuckler, would anybody like me to buckle any swashes? This is my euphorian day, I will ring welkins and before anybody answers I will run away. I will tame me a caribou And bedeck it with marabou. I will pen me my memoirs. Ah youth, youth! What euphorian days them was! I wasn't much of a hand for the boudoirs, I was generally to be found where the food was. Does anybody want any flotsam? I've gotsam. Does anybody want any jets

We can't all be heroes, because somebody has to sit on the curb and applaud when they go by.

Oh to be young and carefree.

A man only learns in two ways, one by reading, and the other by association with smarter people.

The waves churning in at a beach somewhere. Calverts Beach, South Arm Peninsula. February 2011. The other day I was fortunate enough to move desks at work. I’ve moved away from strip florescent lighting, a main street-type thoroughfare and some noisy neighbours to a big picture window, with a million dollar view of the river and (best of all), no florescent lighting. I’m prepared to tolerate the effing and blinding of some of the clients down below. We might have to talk about all those car horns though. Onto books! Circumstances have seen me pressed for time this week, so I only finished the one: Victor Pelevin’s collection of short stories, The Blue Lantern . As a fan of post-Soviet black comedies, Pelevin is right up my alley. The Blue Lantern appeared in 1992, and is infused with the kind of disorder that you’d expect to find in the confusion of the collapse of the USSR. Very ‘Russian’ in tone, this is a fantastic collection well worth checking out. Still more waves. Cal

To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.

The boy in the bubble just got bigger, twenty three millimetres in three weeks, to be precise. If he continues growing at this rate, I calculate that he will stand TWENTY FOUR METRES TALL by the age of fifty.

In order to go on living one must try to escape the death involved in perfectionism.

Zen and the art of getting closest to the jack. Buckingham Bowls Club, New Town. March 2011. I used to play bowls once. It’s a fine game, but – as with most sports – very much dependent on the selection of your team mates. Give me uncoordinated and generally useless – but pleasant – colleagues over skilled, talented and hungry – but aggravating – contemporaries any day of the week. Except Saturdays. Saturdays are serious.

Think like a man of action, and act like a man of thought.

Like Warren Beatty in an aquatic version of Bonnie and Clyde , Henry showcases an exceptional range of charisma, charm and spunkicity. [For the purpose of the analogy, I shall be assuming the role of Faye Dunaway.]

All things are subject to interpretation whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.

Martin Cash, George Jones and Lawrence Kavenagh (in paper form). The Guard Station, Eaglehawk Neck. January 2011. Martin Cash was Tasmania’s best know convict bushranger. He attracted fame for twice escaping from Port Arthur, which was at the time perhaps the World’s most notorious penal colony. As a smart chap, he cashed in with an autobiography that was released in 1870 – The Adventures of Martin Cash – which was kind of like a cross between The Wire , Prison Break and Glee . As with many famous Tasmanians, he was born in Enniscorthy, Ireland. His autobiography has him entering a life of crime when he shot a man in a jealous rage for making advances on his sweetheart, but records list his original crime as house breaking. Sentenced to seven years penal transportation, he arrived in Sydney in 1828. He quickly received his ticket of leave and worked as a stockman in New South Wales, but soon was suspected of cattle stealing and did as many crims did, and relocated to Tasmania.

The problem is not that there are problems. The problem is expecting otherwise and thinking that having problems is a problem.

Black Bart Roberts, Stede Bonnet, Sir Francis Drake, William Kidd, Blackbeard, Calico Jack, Redbeard, Jean Lafitte, Henry Morgan and John Hawkins eat your heart out!

The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.

Millions of snakes, or more sinister? Eaglehawk Neck, Tasman Penninsula. January 2011. I have had a song stuck in my head for five straight days now. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good song, but five days on constant rotation is a bit much. Anyway, I have this theory that if I look into the story behind the song, and potentially infect others with the virus, it will leave me alone. Here goes… If I Fell is a song by The Beatles that first appeared in the 1964. It was featured in the film A Hard Day's Night , and appeared on the accompanying soundtrack. Although it seems that John Lennon alone wrote it, it was credited to the Lennon/McCartney partnership. The song itself has an atypical structure for an early (-ish) Beatles track, with an unrepeated introduction sang by Lennon, followed by sequential verse sections, each having a slightly expanded form, but with no obvious chorus or bridge section. As ever, the song features a two-part harmony – Lennon and McCartney into a sing

Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.

Yes. We like the water. Very much.

Moral codes adjust themselves to environmental conditions.

Tall eucalypts can be found in many places here. Eaglehawk Neck, Tasman Peninsula. January 2011. I would build Henry and Ezra a treehouse, unfortunately our backyard is limited to one little lemon tree and one little lime tree. I’m reasonably certain that neither would sufficiently bear the weight of my two behemoths. Especially with all that jumping about…

Liberty doesn't work as well in practice as it does in speeches.

Take me to the April sun in Cuba. Hey hey hey.

One of the lessons of history is that nothing is often a good thing to do and always a clever thing to say.

I’m on a submarine mission for you baby… Bellerive, February 2011. Telecom Australia was formerly the trading name of Telstra Corporation Limited , an Australian telecommunications and media company, formerly owned by the Australian government and privatised in stages from the late 1990s. To give you an idea of the age of this sign, Telecom became Telstra in 1995 . It is in surprisingly good shape given that it is (at least) sixteen years old. I suspect that this is explained (at least in part) by the fact that it doesn’t have Telstra emblazoned on it. Let’s just say that since privatisation, Telstra has not exactly endeared itself to its former owners, the Australian public… Which leads me into today’s Sunday Top Five … Today I noticed – when uploading some new photographs – that my Blogger account is now upwards of 98% capacity of my 1 GB of free storage. Now you may have noticed, but this blog has essentially evolved into a photographic record of Tasmania and two certain c