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
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chips - my out-of-date collection puts franny & roddy's to shame. in fact, they come here for their chips now. they're probably my chips your drowning in.
beaches - right across the road from home and work
peace and quiet - no kids at this address
eggs - apparently you now have a few dozen of mine but it still hasn't put a dent in my pile
books - do e-books count? i just re-read catch 22 and was amused that the final chapter wasn't the coma-like death dream i've always thought it was but actually real. i think.
books: yes, everyday
peace and quiet: I need it, enjoy it right now (a day off, but kids in school and kindergarten)
eggs: can go without
beaches: that's what I miss here most