If you’ve got it, flaunt it.

I had my hands around a large latte, taking in the aroma, coaxing warmth from the steaming mug. We were downstairs at Wyong Mall, watching the passing parade; blue rinse matrons with loot from the op shop, mothers and red nosed babies, rugged up but still cold, girls in uggs and coats, then one young man, shirtless in the bleak July air.

I turned to Barney the Barista, indicating with my head.
“What’s that all about?”
His glance was as confident as it was brief.
“New tatts.”

Note: I intend to take a break from blogging while I concentrate on my almost completed novel, but know I will be unable to resist the occasional look at what you are all doing. Meanwhile, I invite my cyber friends to drop me a line if you feel the urge. And meanwhile, please take a trip to the Magpie's Nest to read contributions from some fine poets and storytellers. XX

Ode to breast feeding.

 A mademoiselle from Le Havre
Was heard to say; ‘I was in love!
But my man departed
Now I’m broken hearted
But at least the baby won’t starve!’

This must have been a bit risqué in 1898, but we know from art going back many thousands of years that the female form has remained a thing of beauty and a joy forever.

Take a look at what real Magpie poets have to say about this lovely Degas image.

Dysfunctional.

An organised kitchen it’s not… 
A cat on the stove that’s not hot. 
A pissoire at hand 
with nowhere to stand 
and a tank with a tap at the top! 

And that is just for starters!

The draughtsmanship is wonderful and the narrative intriguing. But to me, this kitchen is the Hell.
I don’t know how Tess manages to finds these, but they really are a challenge. Click on Magpie Tales to see what others had to say.

A no-brainer? Apparently not.

 Yesterday we had a guest to lunch, a smart lady, mid seventies and we talked about a range of issues after family histories had been updated. Then, out of the blue, with unmistakable incredulity: “You don’t really believe climate change is real!?”

I was silent for a moment waiting for the smile and when that did not come, I recognised this as an opportunity to try out the argument I had been nurturing for a while, that I considered a no-brainer, but I was wrong.

My argument goes as follows: “OK, let’s leave aside differences of opinion and consider this one question: ‘Is CO2 a greenhouse gas or not?’

My strategy was to follow the expected agreement with: ‘whatever other factors are operating, rising CO2 levels are lifting the basic temperature floor, so all other variables are being lifted with it. Then I had planned to say that CO2 rise is the one factor that is man-made, and is the only one we can, and therefore must fix.

But I didn’t get that far. I was totally blindsided by: “CO2 is plant food!”, followed by: “Anyway the planet is cooling. Haven’t you read Ian Plimer?”

I have read Ian Plimer, geologist, who makes a good case for climate change having natural causes and it does, but as I wrote in a previous post, that does not in any way detract from the argument that CO2 is causing climate change in a fundamental and dangerous way.

 My friend Jo realised there was potential for a real argument and steered the conversation to the other big human issue, that of overpopulation, so we chatted about that for a while until I could graciously leave to contemplate what had happened.

 Of course, once again, I was snookered by the unfortunate human habit of deciding an issue by intuition, then casting about for evidence in support, while avoiding evidence to the contrary. So for anyone who wants to see why Plimer is very wrong, here is a convincing rebuttal of Plimer’s arguments from none other than the Australian Government’s Dept of Climate Change.

But, as they say; ‘You can lead a horse to drink but you can’t make him water!’

Always going, never coming..

My front and back, as you can see
are both the same; Oh woe is me!
Two bums, no dick,
I’d soon be sick,
If not fed intravenously!

If you like this, you need help. But help is at hand at Magpie Tales. Take a look!

Art for arts ache.

You think poets sprout blah blah blah?
Musicians sometimes stray too far?
But they, let's be honest
do not foist upon us
a work like this menage de trois!

 I guess I miss out on something by being such an art bogan. But as they say, 'what the eye doesn't see the heart doesn't grieve over'. Visit the Magpie to read what art lovers have to say about Pablo and this flight of fancy.

A Maiden's Prayer Answered.

 Oh, God, is this one of your tricks?
You nasty old five (*****)!
You promised to help me,
 So why did you give me
To Salvador Dali to fix!?

 Trying to rhyme 'Dali', leads one to Bob Marley on a Harley so I abandoned that idea and employed the good old set of (five) asterisks to denote a word one would rather not commit to print. Find more erudite contributions at Magpie Tales.

Why I am becoming depressed.

Dateline Brisbane, October 2013.
I was told this is Tony (Climate Change is bunkum) Abbott, our newly elected Prime Minister relaxing in downtown Brisbane before taking off to Bowen to open the largest coal loader in the world.

Pic borrowed from ABC Australia Images.

Flogging dead horses?

1.
Baffling scaffolding;
pondering, wondering.
Building and gilding,
An edifice crum-bl-ing.

..............

2.
Library of stone
in the digital age,
bastion of relevance;
Ink on the page.

Yes, I still 'belong' to a library. Maybe I will buy a Kindle when all known literature has been digitised. Otherwise I am contributing to the destruction of knowledge, or am I just too old to change?

Get with the strength and click here for more contributions to the Digital Magpie.

Recorded History

The old man
in the stranded tram
played me jazz
on his Edison Phonograph.

Beethoven
on the Parlophone;
twelve inch,
seventy eight.

Sinatra
in the wee small hours.
Microgroove
for twenty minutes.

CD’s
and downloads
I-pods and
Memory sticks.

Hours and hours;
unlimited time,
unlimited technology,
unlimited choice.

But of those,
I loved microgroove the best
because
I was eighteen.

..........
Thanks Tess at Magpie Tales for the memory lane prompt.