My Diary: Living In A Cellophane Universe

My astral soldier friend is seriously ill.‭ ‬She is curled up like a distant memory and wont take in food or kind words.‭ ‬The boy in me shrunk into the cellophane wrapping a long discarded toy was brought home in.‭ ‬We made plans for future existences in case we parted in the glass eye of the night.‭ ‬As the wrong curtains were brought down on the wrong play I wished we could all live in many times at once as I am not happy about being alone in this one‭ ‬-‭ ‬I wrote this as a pair of shoes climbed the stairs with no feet in them,‭ ‬they paused and then climbed another flight even though there isn’t one‭ (‬I looked to see if there was a pair of gloves coming down but my fantasy and fancy didn’t stretch that far‭)‬.‭ ‬I went to bed with the soldier and we reminisced about our campaigns of invention and imagination.

My Diary: The Disease That Even Imagination Cannot Cure

I walked out of the house with my cup of tea converted to a brown mist floating some way above the sailing boat on my head.‭ ‬Both the mist and the boat dispersed before I caught the mechanical camel to the bird haunt and finally the primate Olympus where the gorilla god spoke using several words at once,‭ ‬I replied with multiple silences.‭ ‬I came home to take the chocolate princess to see a pair of hands‭; ‬the hands pointed out bad news and June and I crept into stone towers to shuffle home.‭ ‬I heard a strange whispering from the cellar we haven’t got and saw a premonition of the sea above towns of municipal coral.‭ ‬In disgust I broke mere words into pieces and handed them around‭; ‬only one person refused the gift and he had arrow slits for eyes‭ ‬-‭ ‬I drew a picture with arrows instead of trees.

My Diary: Pulling A Hat From A Rabbit And Wondering If This Existence Is Actually Real

June and I visited the Noah lady again to pull animals from her pretend beard‭ ‬-‭ ‬over enthusiastic as usual I also removed the stone entrails from a sedimentary rock yak as well as the diamante launch pad of a V2‭ ‬missile,‭ ‬several probabilities from a quantum mechanical computer and a frying pan last used by Thor to hit Loki‭ (‬both were in drag and wore stockings in complimentary colours‭)‬.‭ ‬We didn’t have very good news about smudge face‭ (‬although worse was to come for chocolate girl‭) ‬and we came home wearing African land snails as hats‭ ‬-‭ ‬I was amazed that mine had reached my breast pocket by the time I had got home as June‘s was still acting as a light house on her promontory head.‭ ‬I pulled a periscope down from the light rose and pretended to see the future instead of the past.

My Diary: The Unrecorded Consequences Of Having An Octopus In Your Head

As an exercise in astral art I painted staring eyes on the battlements of my stone head.‭ ‬I could hear the enemy in the distance composing rhyming couplets beside their ragworm camp fires‭; ‬as a mandatory response I wrote rather abstruse verse on the camouflaged carapace of a mechanical crab.‭ ‬There was apparently a brief respite from the dark winged days and I curled up in the powder chamber of my heavy artillery piece to fire the lead shot of my imagination.‭ ‬As a pacifist I fired only at blank patches of earth‭; ‬having cleared it of all recognisable forms of life.‭ ‬I then followed the faux animal foot prints out of my old stamping ground and onto pastures new,‭ ‬where I spent some time measuring the distance between dead flowers in readiness for the promise of a Spring display.

My Diary: Looking At The Wild Sky From The Domesticated Ground

June and I dropped in quick succession from a star shaped hole in the ceiling.‭ ‬She picked up a piece of lunar rock in the shape of a Martian and I picked up the cat.‭ ‬We walked to town with the shadows of animals on the pavement before us and the shadows of people behind.‭ ‬The cat admired her shadow of a man in a trilby and I admired my Bengal tiger‭ ‬-‭ ‬we then all came home with the sun behind clouds.‭ ‬While June used the cat as a ball of wool I climbed into the hayloft to clutch at straws and work with a wild animal of a pencil‭ ‬-‭ ‬it let me scratch out pictures from raw emotion.‭ ‬I could hear wailing in the distance and saw a premonition of land floating above clouds.‭ ‬June meanwhile made a cottage pie for dinner‭; ‬I admired the heart shaped windows.

My Diary: Life In A Book, Which Is Opened Then Closed

I started the day in a reenactment of the Battle of Hohenfriedberg artfully frozen in fifteen dimensions‭ (‬plus time‭) ‬behind my artificial eyes.‭ ‬June went out with a partially smudged cat while I stayed behind with the entire Prussian army.‭ ‬I had planned to raise myself from the ink blot lake like Excalibur but in the end had to settle for the emergence of a naked hand‭ (‬which briefly performed a naked hand ballet‭) ‬and then let it take its antithesis into my mollusc shell study before the rain touched the embroidered hem of my demurely arranged petticoat.‭ ‬I wrote in spirals about the golden mean and not mean‭ ‬-‭ ‬as usual I sided with the not mean‭ ‬-‭ ‬and then fitted together brief glimpses of another reality which I hope to capture and keep for those times when nothing actually makes sense.

My Diary: Watching My Reflection With A Spinning Top On My Head

I got up with the head of a spider monkey and the tail of a raccoon‭; ‬June remained in bed talking of redecorating the zoo.‭ ‬After a breakfast of old pictures I walked the dog along the sharpened edge of a razor,‭ ‬painted a clown’s face black and then went to lunch with myself and June.‭ ‬We both ate minutes instead of food before being served a meal of ball bearings and brake fluid.‭ ‬I came home to sew badges onto flying carpets while June stayed in town garlanding shopping malls with conversation.‭ ‬She came home eventually as the contents of a hypodermic syringe‭; ‬being injected into the living room (which was wearing Boer War camouflaged stockings and green vegetables freshly grown in the Crimea).‭ ‬I saluted like a Great Western Railway signal and poured boiling hot tea from a ball point pen.