The ultimate test of a moral society is the kind of world that it leaves to its children.

The gang's all here! Shag Bay, Geilston Bay. December 2012.

Another Tuesday, another Q and A stolen from the resurrected Sunday Stealing! This week, the The Deleted Meme

Who is your favourite artist (Any field)?

That’s far too big a questions to do any justice to! No, I just can’t do it. Let me limit to painters, and the list includes Caillebotte, J.M.W. Turner, Korovin, Marc, Aivazovsky, Boudin, Monet, Rousseau, Klee, Pollock, Schwitters and Larionov. Off the top of my head.

Describe yourself:

A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.

How do you feel today?

Pretty good.

Describe the area where you currently live.

Smokey. Very very smokey.

If you could go anywhere, where would you go?

Somewhere nice and quiet where everything wasn’t on fire.

Your favourite form of transportation:

I do like a nice boat ride. Or a train. Failing that, my feet serve me well!

Your best friend is:

Already married.

You and your best friends are:

I said, married!

What's the weather like:

Nice and hazy.

Favourite time of day:

I like dawn.

If your life were a TV show, what would it be called?

The Kris McCracken Monotonous Hour.

What is life to you?

Living!

Your relationship:

Still going.

Your fear:

That one day I might care what others think about me. That must be terrifying.

What is the best advice you have to give?

Just do it! If you want to lose weight, eat less and exercise more. If you want to be healthier, stop eating crap, drinking so much and smoking. If you want to be in better shape, get off your arse. If you want to write a book, then bloody well write it! You are the agent of change, ain’t nobody else going to do it for you.

Thought for the Day:

I think that I just gave it.

How would you categorize your soul's present condition?

Moderate to fine.

Comments

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...

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. ...

This will hurt me...

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