War is the unfolding of miscalculations.

Time. Home, Geilston Bay. July 2011.

1. Who are you?
I am me.

2. What is your biggest goal for this year?
To make it through unscathed.

3. Where do you want to be in 5 years?
Somewhere nice.

4. What stage of life are you in right now?
I am – according to the BBC – currently in the most expensive year of life. Somebody forgot to tell me!

5. Are you more child-like or childish?
Childish.

6. What is the last thing you said out loud?
“It will probably end up snowing all October.”

7. What song comes closest to how you feel about your life right now?
Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey.

8. Does your life tend to get better or worse or does it just stay the same?
At present we are kind of treading water.

9. Does time really heal all wounds?
No, I don’t think that it does.

10. How do you handle a rainy day?
Badly.

11. Do you tend to be aware of what is going on around you?
Acutely so.

12. What is the truest thing that you know?
Anybody who isn’t confused doesn’t really understand the situation.

13. What did you want to be when you grew up?
Somebody.

14. Have you ever been given a second chance?
I think so.

15. Are you more of a giver or a taker?
Probably a giver, but that’s not always as nice as you might think.

16. Do you make your decisions with an open heart/mind?
One does try, but one is only human, after all.

17. Who have you hugged today?
Jen, Ezra and Henry. Henry was being a little bit slippery about it though.

Comments

Roddy said…

Time is of the essence. Time waits for no man. (Woman, child.)

25 August 2011 at 10:37

Kris McCracken said…

Time is time.

28 August 2011 at 12:44

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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