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.

Mad as hell

So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

This will hurt me...

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