It belongs to human nature to hate those you have injured.

Young people today! The corner of New Town Road and St Johns Avenue, September 2010.

Theme Thursday yet again, and my, how appropriate is the theme today! Yes people, we are gripped by ENNUI. Well may you scoff at the notion of being engrossed in your own listlessness, but modern life is just like that sometimes.

Look at the graffiti above. Consider the written expression. Are the authors likely to be dynamic and enthusiastic members of their local community? They can’t spell “sucks” and they forsake the Australian “arse” for the bastardised American “ass”. If that does not tell you something about the state of their melancholy, nothing will!

Taken as a whole, the message is unclear.

PiGS SUX COCK ASS

Now, I could be generous and presume that our wanton vandals are actually intrepid young veterinary students positing a revolutionary new procedure for our porcine friends. Indeed, we might postulate that PiGS SUX [meaning suxamethonium chloride] COCK ASS refers to some kind of surgical procedure involving donkeys, roosters and large amounts of a drug that induces muscle relaxation and short-term paralysis.

Knowing that pigs organs have great potential for use in humans, we might propose another explanation. Perhaps the COCK does not refer at all to roosters. I am told by sources that the word COCK in some contexts is employed as a colloquial term for the male sexual organ. If we accept this hypothesis, then perhaps, just perhaps, the suxamethonium chloride is necessary to transplant the donkey penis onto the pig, with the eventual goal of liberating men from the terrors of an undernourished penis. A quick scan of my spam mailbox tells me that there might just be a market for it!

However, am reticent to believe this, as although the prospect of harnessing the power of the donkey phallus would have its backers, the ethics approval for this kind of experiment would be very difficult to achieve. Especially in Tasmania, where the donkey has a wide range of civil liberties enshrined in law,

No, the simplest explanation is probably correct: ENNUI. Boredom and disenchantment. A poor grasp of syntax and sentence structure. Some kind of crude, poorly spelled and anatomically impossible sexual allusion involving the long hand of the law.

Sigh.

[See, the problem with ENNUI is that you really can't be FENCEd in once it takes hold...]

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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