An artist cannot speak about his art any more than a plant can discuss horticulture.

Spindly dongers (at least that's what Henry calls them) on trees. Royal Botanical Gardens, Hobart. April 2012.

In the absence of another reader contribution (reader?), I am back to stealing from Sunday Stealing this week. Thus, I present to you Part Two of the Semi Charmed Meme

21. A better name for me would be: something German. Jürgen Grüßer or some such.

22. I have a hard time understanding: why people don’t ask more questions.

23. If I ever go back to school, I’d: enjoy myself more than the first few runs at it.

24. You know I like you if: you see me again.

25. If I ever won an award, the first person I’d thank would be: my lovely wife and children.

26. If I could bring back a TV show for a reunion it would be: Deadwood.

27. Take my advice, never: think that merit on its own will get you anywhere.

28. My ideal breakfast is: porridge with fresh raspberries.

29. A song I love, but do not own is: I honestly cannot think of one. If I ‘love’ a song, I must possess it!

30. If you visit my hometown, I'd suggest: keeping your preconceptions and prejudices to yourself and just try to enjoy yourself.

31. If I could meet a couple of my blog buddies, I'd include: anyone who wanted to be included!

32. Why won’t people: stop being so bloody selfish all the time?

33. If you spend the night at my house: I expect you to be very quiet after 8 pm.

34. I’d stop everything for: a chance of peace and quiet.

35. The world could do without: people always hatin’ on each other.

36. The last time I got drunk I: couldn’t get up the stairs.

37. My favourite blonde is: a brunette!

38. Paper clips are more useful than: spinal meningitis.

39. If I do anything well, it’s: likely to go by unremarked upon.

40. And by the way: I have a headache and am in a bit of a shitty mood, so the answers might be skewed a little bit.

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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