My Diary: The Prologue To The Epilogue

I felt like an almost two dimensional copy of myself as I got up moments after June had forced the front door closed.‭ ‬In some stories I would be folded up and placed in a back pocket but in this one I stepped into the bath like an unused cheque being fed into a cross cut shredder‭ (‬while naked in the water I could hear clothed voices outside‭)‬.‭ ‬The hedge was grinning as I counted the heads progressing along its uneven top,‭ ‬they merged with bodies and I then counted rain drops.‭ ‬The dog and I walked each other between showers and I then settled into my‭ “‬Alas poor Yorick‭” ‬study to write this:‭ ‬however I neither knew him or Richard Tarlton,‭ ‬Horatio‭! ‬I was thinking about designing a jacket with two pairs of arms as a joke when June came in wearing several pairs of trousers at the same time.

My Diary: Voices in Boxes All Tied Up With Typeface

I had an early trip to the small country‭ (‬it gets smaller as I get bigger although I know at some point the reverse will be true‭)‬.‭ ‬I checked my phone before entering the house and saw the old man holding‭ ‬an empty bottle‭ ‬-‭ ‬neither of us had any messages.‭ ‬We talked softly about the bars we saw the world through before I went out and scattered old pictures on the recently dug ground:‭ ‬once covered with soil new images will issue forth.‭ ‬I consoled myself with this thought as the red bus alligator jaws snapped shut and the blind guitarist by the road side checked his cap for coins.‭ ‬I said hello to people I often think I know on the long journey home‭; ‬measuring the radius of the big pond by the crossroads with my index finger and thumb as the probable descendants of Iron Age hill farmers walked by.

My Diary: The Dog Holds A Cat Holding A Mouse Holding A Flower

June and I had a string quartet lay in‭ (‬only for a few bars I hasten to add as I had lots to do‭)‬:‭ ‬she as a cello and me as a violin.‭ ‬After the music had died down I pretended to be tree in the garden while she went to sleep on the back of a terrapin‭ ‬-‭ ‬I woke her with lotus blossom eyes and we went out as some one else’s memories,‭ ‬acknowledging the cardigan and hat on the sofa as we did so‭ ‬-‭ ‬from a distance it looked like a sleeping person‭ (‬perhaps people from a distance look like sleeping chairs‭)‬.‭ ‬I talked to the man with a moon in a bottle and then let June go on ahead,‭ ‬catching her up after I had checked the pockets in my bonsai reflection and then slid down the hill on my wallet.‭ ‬We had a pre-nationalisation railway style dinner as the train came in five minutes late to the station.

My Diary: Flying A Kite On The Lawn And Then The Grass Blew Away

June walked up the road works to the house at the top of the hill while I simultaneously felt my aching tooth and put out traffic cones‭ ‬-‭ ‬a figure which as a little boy I called a skeleton tried in vain to stop the traffic‭ (‬incidentally I had earlier seen another figure trapped inside a deodorant bottle‭; ‬I pressed the top and spray issued out but when I checked later the figure was still there,‭ ‬nursing a miniature car with which it had previously made an attempt on the world land speed record‭)‬.‭ ‬While I had the house to myself I collected my belongings into a bundle and called it art then,‭ ‬as various types of wading bird played a game of cricket on our neckerchief lawn,‭ ‬I unpacked them all again.‭ ‬June came in later wearing a crash helmet and carrying a motorcycle in a shopping bag.

My Diary: A Ship Sinking In A Bottle

I felt a bit down as I got out of the Juno Beach side of our Normandy landings bed.‭ ‬The dog was wearing a suit of armour and we went out for a joust before I walked to town with a shopping arcade on my back.‭ ‬I left it at the bottom of the High Street and came home with my shopping floating in the middle of my Tokamak haversack.‭ ‬I entered my studio with my head feeling like a slice of burnt toast and I had to scrape off several layers of dark thoughts before I could settle down to work.‭ ‬I painted a city of acoustic guitars with doors as the sound holes:‭ ‬it took me some time to tune the roofs‭ ‬-‭ ‬I could then play the music written by birds on the telephone lines‭ (‬it proved to be a lament‭)‬.‭ ‬I would have sung it to June when she came in if she hadn’t been holding a fragment of wing from a Junkers‭ ‬88.

My Diary: Stuck On A Shelf With A Model Frankenstein Monster

I got up with a race track all the way down the front of my body‭; ‬I couldn’t see what was down my back but I did occasionally hear engine noises.‭ ‬The dog and I flew to a house of books‭ (‬mostly hardbacks although the shed was made of paper ones‭ ‬-‭ ‬mainly Mills and Boon‭); ‬as usual I didn’t have time to read the masonry,‭ ‬however I did sign a pebble and give it to a Leyton Orient football fan‭ ‬-‭ ‬I don’t know why as I don’t support the club.‭ ‬I spent much of the afternoon painting my legs with black and white squares as I danced on the top of an Ionic column.‭ ‬June came back from work but couldn’t find the chess pieces even though our neighbour had called his home a castle and was wearing a full Samurai uniform of the Kamakura period.

My Diary: Hallelujah In A Frying Pan

June and I were visited by caterpillar emissaries of the butterfly people with recently found sea shell smiles and recently purchased penguin socks.‭ ‬We talked of hideouts in multistorey gardening boots and then laughed out loud when a band of fish people swam by with paddles on their heads.‭ ‬On our way to a fairy tale castle we walked on a molten lava bridge and then along a crocodile teeth path before stopping for a meal in the cavernous eye socket of a very large skull‭ ‬-‭ ‬it was precariously balanced on the single hump of a stone camel and called us a sand storm.‭ ‬After a meal of moa eggs‭ (‬they make an especially large omelette‭) ‬the little ones enjoyed a space flight in an old shoe while the older ones stood and watched‭ ‬-‭ ‬I thought like saguaro cactuses remembering their lost loves.