Be just before you are generous.

Me (or, something approaching Me). The corner of Campbell and Bathurst Streets, Hobart. September 2013.

For this Tuesday Q and A (as I'm in real life steaming up the road and back to Campbell Town), I tackle another series from Sunday Stealing, the Massive Alphabet Meme, part one!

The Letter A

Are you agnostic?

I’m more atheist than agnostic, to be frank.

What is your age?

Chronological, ontological, pedagogical or psychological? That’s a difficult question to answer.

What annoys you?

Lots of things! Hypocrisy really annoys the hell out of me, though.

The Letter B

Do you like bacon?

In moderation, I do.

When is your birthday?

It’s in May.

Who is your best friend?

I have three of them. They know who they are.

The Letter C

What is your favourite candy?

Lollies? As in sweets? I like sour worms.

Who is your crush?

Crush? As in squash? I’d like to squash bad people.

When was the last time you cried?

A few years ago on the bus to New Town, as I reached the end of The Middle Parts of Fortune.

The Letter D

Do you daydream?

All the time. I do like an agreeable daydream.

What is your favourite kind of dog?

I am not a big fan of the canine. At a stretch, it’s a toss-up between a Beagle and a German Shepherd.

What day of the week is it?

Tuesday.

The Letter E

How do you like your eggs?

Every which way. It’s hard to be a boiled egg though.

Have you ever been in the emergency room?

Once or twice. It’s never much fun.

What’s the easiest thing to ever do?

To avoid doing the right thing.

The Letter F

Have you ever flown in a plane?

Of course I have.

Do you use fly swatters?

I use my bare hands. I’m hardcore.

Have you ever used a foghorn?

I don’t think so. I have been compared to a foghorn.

The Letter G

Do you chew gum?

No. Filthy habit.

Ever tried gazpacho?

I have. It’s not really my scene, although I did make a lovely cold raspberry soup once.

Are you a giver or taker?

I think that I am a giver.

The Letter H

How are you?

I am trying very hard to battle the ennui.

What’s your height?

193.75 centimetres.

What colour is your hair?

Seal brown. The Hex triplet is #59260B.

The Letter I

What is your favourite ice-cream?

Either choc mint of coffee. A decent banana ice cream is very nice too.

Have you ever ice-skated?

Many moons ago now. I prefer my water in the liquid form though.

Do you play an instrument?

I play the blues harp very, very badly.

The Letter J

What is your favourite jelly bean?

Green. They’re all the same really (aside from brown), aren’t they?

Do you wear jewellery?

I wear a wedding ring. Does a watch count as jewellery? If it does, I wear one of those too.

Have you heard a really hilarious joke?

Not for a while. None of Henry’s really do it for me.

The Letter K

Whom do you want to kill?

I don’t really want to kill anybody. That said, there are plenty of people who I wouldn’t grieve for should an accident happen…

Do you want kids?

I already have kids. I don’t need any more.

Where did you go to kindergarten?

Upper Burnie Primary School. It doesn’t exist anymore.

The Letter L

Are you laid-back?

I can be.

Do you lie?

Everybody lies now and again.

Do you love anyone?

I love a few people.

The Letter M

What is your favourite movie?

I have taken to answering this one with Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Dekalog.

Do you still watch Disney movies?

More than ever before. We had The Great Mouse Detective on last Saturday!

Do you like mangoes?

I have a complicated relationship with mangoes. I want to like them, but find them difficult to eat. Very messy.

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. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

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...

This will hurt me...

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