Advertising sins

Saw this ad for a real estate agent in The Star, a free local newspaper.

It took me several attempts to make sense of their slogan:

Still not entirely sure I grasp the concept.

Here, fishy fishy

We've just had some new arrivals!

Meet the goldfish:

That's one of the wine barrels Mick got at auction. We're currently debating whether or not we should cover the top with wire to prevent birds or cats helping themselves. Only time will tell.

I think we might give it a few days before we give them names, although the fact there are five of them gives me some ideas...

Perhaps Julian, George, Dick, Anne and Timmy.
Or Marlon, Tito, Jermaine, Jackie and Michael...

Thanks for what?

I just got an email from my case worker at the Bobby Goldsmith Foundation.

I've never met her; we've never even spoken.

I became a member of BGF in the hopes of getting one-off financial support when I was moving up here.
No dice. I didn't "qualify". This despite me having no income at the time and needing financial aid to move and store my belongings. (In the end Mick picked up the tab.)

BGF has been under considerable scrutiny lately about its finances and (in)ability to provide assistance for PLWHA. I haven't been in the loop for some time but my own experience with them has been underwhelming.

Nevertheless, my "case worker" sent me a lovely personal farewell:
"I am writing this letter to inform you that from Friday 5^th November 2010 I will no longer be working at Bobby Goldsmith Foundation.
 "A new case worker will be appointed for you and you will receive another letter letting you know of your new case worker.  However, in the meantime if you have any concerns please feel free to contact any of the case workers available in BGF to discuss your matters.
 "I would also like to take this opportunity to thank you for sharing a bit of your story with me as it has been very valuable in helping me support you and become a better worker.  At the same time, please receive my very best wishes for the future."

Like I said, never met the woman...

Critters of The Bend #7: Cicada

I have no idea which species of cicada this is, but it makes one ungodly racket:

These are harmless, of course, and easy to pick up:

Amusingly, every time you stroke its back it makes a noise, like an entomological Tickle Me Elmo.

Cheap housing

Either there's an accommodation crisis in the Bend or this is a very adventurous child's cubby house:

Ghost station

There's a disused arm of railway at East Maitland, complete with derelict platform:

Great venue for a party...

Auction artefact #16: Soldier with Drum

There was another auction on the weekend. I went with Mick to the Saturday viewing but left him to his own devices on Sunday. It was packed, apparently, but that didn't stop him from bringing home several items.

There was one lot comprising three "prints", all war-related – right up Mick's alley – and going cheap ($30).

One of them looked like a nice enough, albeit romanticised, Boys' Own take on World War One:

It wasn't until I had a closer look that I realised the image was woven in silk jacquard:

Score!

It's by Frenchman Georges Scott (1873-1943), a celebrated war artist who evidently allowed his work to be reproduced in St Etienne, historically a centre of silk manufacture as well as arms, for postcards and such.
Here it is, with a winter backdrop, in a 1914 British publication:

I imagine it could be worth a bit more than $10.

Feeding time

They're not as cute as the baby owls that stayed with us earlier this year, but a family of magpies in the big jacaranda next door is providing morning entertainment, even if their carnivorous appetite can be unsettling.

We've been feeding them kitchen scraps; it's amazing how they lose any fear of humans when food enters the equation.
It also shuts up the young birds' incessant mewling.

Yesterday's chicken bones were a hit:

And this morning I gave them some shaved ham. A little extravagant, perhaps, but it was snapped up the second it landed on the grass:

It was raucously received:

Not to be outdone, Mick countered this with an array of pork, which promptly disappeared:

We should really get a dog.

Another saint

Mary's getting all the attention.
Meanwhile, the Saint Andrew's Cross spiders are all over the backyard.

Here's my current favourite:

He's housed himself in our soon-to-be bougainvillea-encased side landing:

...which overhangs the fuschia I bought:

It's a miracle of sorts.

Pawn stars 3

It's like that pawnbroker is reading my mind.

A Bride of Chucky Tiffany doll!

I wonder if she speaks? God I hope so.
I'd imagine "Was it really bloody?" and "Fuck Martha Stewart!" would have to be in the repertoire.

I should visit the place when it's actually open...

By the way, the doll displayed between Chucky and Tiffany is Keith Richards.
Strangely fitting.

More connections

I just stumbled upon an image from an exhibition, The Gay 90s, by Mark Ryden, held earlier this year:

It reminded me of something:

Reasons to be cheerful

My friend Raymond admonished me via email on the weekend for depressing him with Peggy Lee.
I never thought such a thing possible.

Anyway, here are some antidotes.
For starters, from the garden, our very first hot-pink bottlebrush:

Perky!

And on the patriotic front (with a little added bear action) here's Australia's Damon Kelly winning weightlifting gold in the super heavyweight category at the Commonwealth Games:

That's him after successfully cleaning and jerking, I think.

A good wake song

Connections

Belleville Rendezvous:

Maison Martin Margiela Spring 2011:

Inception:

D'Espresso cafe, NYC:

More mutants

These anthropomorphic carrots are starting to disturb me.

I can't be the only one who thinks this looks like an atrophied conjoined twin:

All I can think of is that South Park episode:

And then there are these two, pictured as they were in the ground, one seemingly clinging to the other for dear life:

... or out of sheer embarrassment.

All about meh

Apologies for so little writing. I fear it's the Zoloft.
I have a thought and dismiss it before I get near the keyboard.

I didn't check my email in weeks (thus missing both comments – sorry about that). I'm also approaching my fortieth birthday and perhaps I'm engaging in some sort of slow automatic shutdown denial exercise.

Who can say?

Screw it, here's the week in photos.
Footy final day started with a wildlife encounter. He backed into the drain, unfortunately, before I could get a shot (it's a blue-tongue):

Then it struck a charming olde worlde note:

Newe worlde footnote: that building in the background's for sale.

Inside the Metro, it was happily busy (the back belongs to the owner, Chris):

Meanwhile, Vickers & Hoad have another auction coming up.

Number one on the list:

I'm sure it's worth a bomb...

Fkiri silence

I just wanted to use that headline, sorry...

More pawn stars

The Chucky doll's been upstaged by the whole family:

Mind you, Bride of Chucky was much better...
And this new (older) Freddie Mercury doll doesn't quite recapture the magic.

Not sure if it's the facial expression or the Rorschasch-test body hair:

Hot Greco-Roman wrestling scandal!

How often do I get to type that?

Anyway, Hassene Fkiri – Tunisia-born but representing Australia in the Commonwealth Games Greco-Roman wrestling 96kg final – was just stripped of his silver medal for going the biff with some stocky Indian bloke:

All very Australian in its way and dead sexy.

Pawn stars

That pawn shop with the interesting approach to visual merchandising keeps surprising.

Again, no price tag, but given the loving craftsmanship (just look at the detail in those tight-fitting trousers) it's probably not cheap: