Civilizations die from suicide, not by murder.

People heading home. Collins Street as seen from Campbell Street, Hobart. September 2010.

In a rush so here's 20 questions!

Were you born early, late or right on time? You would have to ask my mother about that.

Chicken pox? Twice! Aged five and again aged 14. Good times…

Allergic to bees? No. I have been stung and while it hurt, it went away reasonable quickly.

How about strawberries? No. I can eat ‘em all day.

Hereditary illness? Not yet, although there are a few predispositions there.

Have you ever been in a car accident? Nothing important. We went through a fence once. That was funny.

How much do you smoke? Smoking is for losers.

How much do you drink? The odd cider now and then.

Is your cholesterol normal? Who knows?!? One hopes…

Have you ever run a marathon? Christ no. No good for the knees. And feet. And legs. And back. And heart.

How many x-ray's have you had (not including dentist)? A few. Couldn’t tell you.

Do you watch what you eat? I try and practice balance, but I don’t record the ins and outs in detail. Everything in moderation.

When was the last time you worked out? Every day is a workout with two little blokes on the go.

What is your ideal weight? I dunno. 86.7 kgs?

Current? Around 92 kgs.

How old was the oldest living relative in your immediate family? Huh? You’d have to have asked them.

Veggies or Fruit? Probably fruit, but I have plenty of room in my life for veg too.

Low-carb or High-carb? I like my carbs.

How do you want to die? Quietly and quickly. Preferably asleep.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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