I put a small part of the day under one of three shells and rearranged them - try as I might I couldn’t find this part of the day again and was extremely late getting into the room at the end of one thousand steps; I sat down on the cat as I couldn’t find the chair. June. as is her want, went wing walking to the local shopping centre on the upper wing of a de Havilland Tiger Moth - she planned to come home on the lower wing but I decided to meet her half way and we had tea in the open cockpit. We got back to the dragon’s tail house so I could return to spreading margarine on whole wheat canvas and I quickly retired to the forward gun turret of HMS Nelson and played the digital piano up the central sixteen inch gun barrel. I composed a musical painting entitled “The Broadside”.
I had to swim in dry soil during the opening page of the morning; June, as usual, skipped the boring bits, had a quick bath and went out. By the time I had found reliably wet land another hour had escaped my version of the morning (carefully constructed on the bonnet of a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost) along a fault line of my own making. June had constructed her world on a Model T Ford (which had been crossed soon after the i had been dotted) and was busy embracing the overtaking lights of a fairy tale dual carriageway. She rang me to talk in bright lights while shielding her eyes from the noise; I returned the call, speaking the truth in boolean algebra and lies in the mythic scenery of Mount Parnassus just before a continually false dawn.
I woke and found myself hanging from a thread like fruit on a tree (if I was asleep I would have called the tree knowledge, as I was awake I called it the exoskeleton of an amoeboid protozoan); June, who was busy turning random lengths of wood into a rudimentary supercomputer, cut the thread: all recollection was lost until I accidentally drew a circle like Giotto. I was just going to paint a fresco celebrating the life of St Francis of Assisi when the door was knocked from both sides at once and two little people tiptoe waltzed in. I continued their dance on the ceiling before falling out with the plastic chandelier and crashing to the sherry trifle of a floor as royalties to an anonymous author. The four of us went out onto the flight deck of a nuclear powered aircraft carrier and stood quite still.
June stood like an obelisk as I went out with a friend to a land of rainbows, watching single spots of rain as if they were falling punctuation marks - when I got out of the car the sky was unreadable. I talked to a sundial even though it was overcast and then went back inside the pamphlet house (it was nestled between several rows of novels, both soft and hardback). My friend returned with sacks of disembodied voices in the boot of his Assyrian war chariot and I returned home to find June had gone; although her pointed shadow remained. I went to question a questioner before settling in a chair and making up shapes for the remainder of the afternoon. It wasn’t long before the shapes were making up themselves and I could sit back and let them question my very existence.
June got up to drink at a dried up river bed while I was still asleep in a tree. I was woken up by a woodpecker revving up his motorcycle and I then got the telephone number of a particularly attractive scarlet macaw (she assured me she was single) before coming down the stairs we have cleverly hidden inside a baobab trunk holding a piece of wood whittled into the shape of a branch. June dressed as a starfish and went out to meet a family of sea urchins. They went to town in a slowly moving puddle and I went into my studio with flippers instead of hands. When June came back I went out myself, this time with wings instead of arms; crossing the river in a water pipe as the bridge was occupied by a tangled mass of metal - it had once called itself an angel.
June wanted a day of baking gem stones and locked me out of the kitchen. Before working as a telegraphist for the Union Pacific railroad in the Eighteen Sixties I went out into the garden to talk to a number of Boer War soldiers busily reenacting the Siege of Mafeking in the rabbit hutch (the rabbit having moved into a penthouse apartment on the South Coast). One showed me a model of the USS Nautilus he kept in a tropical aquarium and then extolled the virtues of breeding veil tail guppies - in response I showed him a picture of myself as a young child in the company of a group of dog headed men. June came upstairs after lunch with a slice of cake she had christened Marie Antoinette - I went down later with an empty plate I christened Madame Roland.
I sat in the shrubbery painting tiny targets on my nails and watching the dog try on a dress several sizes too big. June went to town shortly after, closely followed by a family of cannibalistic clocks - luckily she wasn’t wearing a watch. I was even less organised than usual and had a bath walking down the street, Poppy came down behind holding a towel. I was busily playing team games on my palette when June contacted me using rose petals borrowed from Heliogabalus. I followed the scent to town, collecting the entrails of a mechanical yak and the spare wheel from the wreck of the HMS Campleltown and then walked home, looking into every hole in the ground as I did so. However I was still surprised when a pair of empty hands emerged from an overgrown roadside hedge.