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Showing posts from May 29, 2011

Being a woman is a terribly difficult task, since it consists principally in dealing with men.

Can you believe it? THREE for the price of ONE this evening. I’ve got ‘em playing it straight! I’ve got ‘em leanin’ back! I’ve got ‘em bein’ silly! You name it, I’ve got it.

His wandering thoughts escape like geese

Autumn leaves on an Autumn tree at the start if Winter. St Johns Park, New Town. June 2011. It has been getting colder. Much colder. What the Goose-Girl Said About the Dean , Edith Sitwell Turn again, turn again, Goose Clothilda, Goosie Jane. Bright wooden waves of people creak From houses built with coloured straws Of heat; Dean Pasppus’ long nose snores Harsh as a hautbois, marshy-weak. The wooden waves of people creak Through the fields all water-sleek. And in among the straws of light Those bumpkin hautbois-sounds take flight. Whence he lies snoring like the moon Clownish-white all afternoon. Beneath the trees’ arsenical Sharp woodwind tunes; heretical— Blown like the wind’s mane (Creaking woodenly again). His wandering thoughts escape like geese Till he, their gooseherd, sets up chase, And clouds of wool join the bright race For scattered old simplicities.

Another belief of mine; that everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.

Snow is a form of precipitation within the Earth's atmosphere in the form of crystalline water ice, consisting of a multitude of snowflakes that fall from clouds. Snow has an open and therefore soft structure, unless packed by external pressure. See how I have formed these snowflakes into a denser material. Snowfall tends to form within regions of upward motion of air around low-pressure systems. As we are atop Mount Wellington, it is highly probable that this snow has been formed through an upslope flow of warmer air (containing water evaporation from the ocean) that has been maximised within the windward sides of the terrain at elevation, which has then hit the far colder atmosphere at altitude. Are you following?

After all, one knows one's weak points so well, that it's rather bewildering to have the critics overlook them and invent others.

Fare thee well, St John's Church. St Johns Park, New Town. June 2011. Last day today! One of the positives of my shifting career path will be less need to tear down Liverpool Street in the early morning trying to make the connecting bus through to New Town. The 7:48 am to Glenorchy is a far more pleasant journey, as the 8:02 generally involves a bus packed to the rafters with reeking and deafening teenage boys on their way to school. In fact, anyone who queries the likelihood of man’s evolutionary link with our ape cousins really needs to catch the 8:02 Glenorchy Express and wise up! After last week’s dismal effort, I’ve lifted my game this week and steamed through a few books. The first, The Drowned World is a 1962 sci-fi novel by J. G. Ballard that differs a little bit from most post-apocalyptic fiction. The central character, rather than being disturbed by the end of the old world, embraces the changed existence that is coming. It’s an interesting little book. Ballard

An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.

London 2012: here we come ...

The bluebird carries the sky on his back.

Rock on. Blinking Billy Beach, Sandy Bay. May 2011. I will confess that part of me admires the tenacity of people who ring an incorrect telephone number, and insist that it is in fact the correct number. That is, the fact that you are not (for example) Dave's Mowing Service is not their fault, it is YOURS. Indeed, the fact that you are not Dave, you have never been Dave, nor do you mow lawns as a matter of business bothers them not a jot, the simple insistence that you ARE because the number that they've dialled IS will somehow magically transform you, your phone number and Statewide and Mental Health Services with it - through sheer force of will and belief - into Dave's Mowing Service. I wish that I had that kind of belief. It'd almost make you think that the world was a halfway decent place...

A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone.

Check out those smiles! As ever, the boys are rarely happier than when they are atop some mighty steed. In this case, wooden Asian elephants.

Once you hear the details of victory, it is hard to distinguish it from a defeat.

Jen contemplates the meaning of nothingness. Calverts Beach, South Arm Peninsula. March 2011. Is nothing something ? Is absence presence ? If a void is an empty space and a vacuum is empty of matter is there such thing as a void? Is there such thing as a vacuum? If there is, does that mean that nothing is something ? Is non-existence essential for existence to be ? Is a void raw existence ? Is being being ? If we are nowhere are we anywhere ? Anywhere must be somewhere , right? If we are talking about nothing does that necessarily engender something ? Is a memory something ? Is a real memory real ? Is a real memory more real than an imagined memory ? Henry has be of absolutely no use at answering any of these questions, and Ezra is barely any better!

Distrust any enterprise that requires new clothes.

What foul, evil genetic mutation has wrought poor Henry all asunder? Has the Japanese tsunami/radiation combo already made its way down south?

In times of rapid change, experience could be your worst enemy.

40 or 20 , YOU decide. St Johns Park, New Town. May 2011. Day two of the final week in New Town, three more to go. You will be pleased to hear that the next office will be located a little closer to the water, and I might get the opportunity now and again to brighten things up with a little morning on the waterfront action. By that I mean sea birds, mist over water and the odd sun burst; not a surly, pouty Marlon Brando. “Charley, it was you! … He gets the title shot outdoors on the ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palookaville! You was my brother, Charley, you shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn't have to take them dives for the short-end money.” Consider Sandy Bay this year’s Palookaville.

Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.

Ezra really didn't want to pose for a photo in front of the river. In fact, the face that he pulled really did mean that I simply had to take a photograph. Here is the new master cranky doing his best to spread good cheer around the globe!

I never have taken a picture I've intended. They're always better or worse.

Doctor Doctor, help me, I'm seeing stripes ! Melbourne Zoo, April 2011. I like zebras. They look good. They make cute noises. They trot about like show ponies. They have impressive backsides and powerful thighs. There are worse-smelling animals in the world. Yes, if I can swing it, I think that we'll be aiming to get Ezra a zebra for a pet next birth. Zebras keeping an eye out for marauding giraffes. Melbourne Zoo, April 2011. Well, a zebra and a penguin.

Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry past it.

No Henry, you can't have one...

Hatred is an affair of the heart; contempt that of the head.

An abandoned gun emplacement and a lighthouse (in your backyard). Blinking Billy Point, Sandy Bay. May 2011. The above gun emplacement was originally intended to stop the Russians (not the Soviets, but the Russians). Yes, at the outbreak of the Crimean War the nervous folk of Van Diemens Land were quaking at the thought of the vicious Imperial Russian Navy. Alas, they were not really very interested. Which leads me to today's Sunday Top Five: My Top Five Invading Hordes That I Wouldn't Be Too Fussed By ! Finns , Sw ed es or Nor wegi ans : any Scandinavian invasion would be welcome. They're a friendly mob, and have plenty of good-looking sheilas with liberal attitudes to beach attire. I think we'd cope. Liechte nstein : let's face it, it would have to be some kind of corporate takeover by European tax exiles. The Holy Roman Empire : any 'Empire' that manages to go by such a name despite the fact that it was neither holy, nor Roman, nor an empire, m