Enmore

This happy little chap was found on a lamppost near ’Pong’s favourite tunnel under the railway in Newtown, Sydney. There are others in the vicinity, and I may seek them out for your enjoyment.

I spotted this sign on a gate in Enmore yesterday. I know how they feel. I think I might get myself one of these signs…

… is Dr Betty Zilka in Petersham, Sydney. Please engage your handbrake and open wide!

Here’s a closer, colour view of The Man in the Window. I still think he looks a little creepy.

I took this photo with my phone the other night at The Duke Hotel. The man stood at the window in exactly this position for about 15 minutes.

My notebook is full of references to the human mind.

Once, on a Saturday Night at The Duke last year, it was a written note by a chap who’d only just been released from jail.

This time (pictured) it’s ’Pong explaining certain basic neurological reflexes.

No, it doesn’t say “Eight High Freeze” — whatever that is! — but “Fight Fligh[t] Freeze”. This diagram explains it all, neurochemistry and everything. Uhuh.

I just love the way that sketched explanations only make sense at the precise moment they’re being created.

Maybe I should go back through that notebook…

I haven’t posted a photograph in a while, so here’s an image of Enmore Road from about an hour ago — uploaded while I sip an absinthe cocktail at The Sly Fox Hotel.

OK, this one is dedicated to my friends in the SCA. They’ll know what I mean. Yes, it’s a billboard advertising a soft drink, but it’s also a deep, deep commentary on The Nature of Engineering.

As I type this, it’s just beginning to rain, and I can hear the sound of thunder in the background. But 20 minutes ago I took this photo of the gathering storm clouds over Enmore in Sydney.

For some reason, the purple knickers (which I wrote about last month and the other day) are now wedged in the side of a garage door.

Due to popular demand, here’s a new photo of the abandoned women’s knickers I wrote about last week.

As you can see, they’ve been swept to the side of the laneway by passing traffic and, perhaps, the wind. And they’ve started to intermingle with dried leaves and other detritus.

I took the photo this afternoon. I’ve declined Cassie ST’s suggestion that I wear them on my head.

A pair of purple women’s knickers lies discarded in a laneway in Enmore, Sydney. “There you go,” I say. “Give ‘em a wash and you’re right!”

“Ewwww!” is the reply. But why? If the knickers are washed, then they’re clean. Can there possibly be anything worse on these “found” knickers that isn’t already in, say, a 3-year-old’s poo-filled pants — which likewise get washed and worn again? In with the rest of your washing, no less!

A few days of solid rain, and our tree fern is looking remarkably healthy. Even when photographed with the pimple-cam.

This just has to be the classiest allusion to the Coat of Arms of the Commonwealth of Australia ever, no?

This image is printed on the front of the Porsche 2400 Turbo hand dryer, as seen in the men’s toilet at the Cyprus Community Club here in Sydney. And it is truly beautiful, don’t you think?

The kangaroo holding out its paws to dry is such a subtle indication that (a) we’re looking at a hand dryer and (b) it’s made in Australia.

And the emu! Does it feel envious of the roo, unable to present hands at all? Or does it smirk in quiet self-satisfaction, happy in the knowledge that it has feathers?

I was shocked. Early this morning every single agapanthus plant in our back yard was covered in snails. They’d climbed up onto the leaves — and they were having sex.

Hundreds and hundreds of snails engaged in a filthy hermaphroditic bisexual snail orgy!

I raced inside to get a camera. I couldn’t find The Good Camera quickly enough, so I grabbed my phone.

But the forecast is for a 34C maximum today — in October! The sun was rising, and so was the temperature. The snails were retreating.

I only had time to grab a quick, blurry image of this pair (pictured), going their separate ways after a morning of debauchery. Sluts.