The local cats!

Hello old blogspot! Have been unfaithfully cavorting with another cyberspace program, namely flickr. Fot those who haven't run across flickr it's a photo sharing site that allows you to publish your photos and get feedback from all those millions of other mad shutterbugs out there.
Let me say this. If you have an addictive nature do not try flickr. It gets you on the first hit. "Hit" being the first positive comment you get on one of your photos. It goes quickly from a passing flirtation to a full on passionate affair, madly joining different interest groups and waiting impatiently for the feedback and feeling spurned when no one notices a particluarly fine shot. (in your opinion at least)
Now the upside to this is that you are motivated to continually widen your horizons and improve your photographic techniques. The downside is there are so many hundreds of superb photographers out there that looking at their photo streams can send you into a deep depression and tempt you to hock that super duper "semi pro" digital slr and buy a paint- by-numbers kit.
It's worse when they own the SAME camera as you and get results that make yours look like a "look what happened when we gave this to a chimp" experiment.
Like any addiction it is all consuming and my house is chaotic (hey at LAST something to blame besides innate laziness) my dog is unwashed and there are two websites and a number of posters waiting to be finished.
I will get to them. Just have to check my Flickr site to see if anyone liked my last batch and maybe sort through some old photos that might be worth posting.....
For anyone who would like take a look at what all my fuss is about:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/unrealdigital/

and, ahem, feel free to leave a comment on anything that takes your eye!

Melbourne Again
Just returned from another trip to Melbourne. Saw a bit more of the city this time. Visited Old Melbourne Jail in the centre of the city. A sombre building with three tiers of miserable little cells which I can only imagine must have stunk to high heaven given the lack of sanitation in the place. We get to see the restored and sanitised version of this building but the misery, violence and abuse of basic human rights must have created an atmosphere that was palpable and nauseating.
The death masks of the convicts that were hung are gruesome reminders of a less forgiving era in our society and one that certainly did not seem to be swayed by present day ideas of political correctness. Although corporal punishment certainly had its opponents then.
The death mask of Ned Kelly has a prominent position in the building and his countenance gave me the impression of strength and resolution..quite a handsome, broad face.
The biographies displayed with the death masks told of lives ravaged by tragedy and criminal acts often prompted by desperation rather than depravity.
I found Emma Williams' story unbelievably sad as did many people of the day. There were many public petitions against the death penalty before her execution but they were unsuccessful. Arriving in Melbourne in 1893, the pregnant Emma lost her husband to typhoid. After many unsuccessful attempts to place her son in an orphanage or with a baby-farmer she resorted to prostitution to survive. The baby was nuisance in the house as it was always crying after Emma and in 1895 the body of a small boy was found in the Port Melbourne lagoon with a stone tied around his neck. Emma was arrested and subsequently convicted of his murder.

A Bad case of Verbal Diarroeah!
Going through a bout of insomnia I simultaneously "worked" on my computer (read "surfed the net") and half listened to and watched an American morning show. Good god how those people can talk. It's almost as if they are frightened that if they stop talking something terrible will happen to them. Sort of like the characters in the movie where the bus has to keep going at a certain speed or the bomb strapped underneath it will explode. The frenetic yapping and the way the various guests and hosts talk over and around each other may be motivated by fear that they will fade from the screen if the words stop flowing-or maybe their heads will explode. Mine certainly felt like it after ten minutes. Perhaps if they had something substantial or midly interesting to say it would be less irritating, but these guys rabbited on about the most banal topics. Take for example, the segment on "rugs". Not the interesting and always potentially humorous rugs that some hair challenged males wear, but floor rugs. The interviewer, a big- haired, whippet thin woman in outrageously high stillettos, asked the rug expert questions and reiterated the answers before the interviewee had finished speaking. Actually when you think of it it takes some sort of skill to talk non stop for ten minutes on ways to lay a rug on a floor. And I don't recall seeing either host or guest stopping to take a breath. Tag talking?