My Diary

I stood in the queue at the breakfast table making smiles out of elastic bands arranged on the Neantherdal table cloth. I had to attend to the magic fountain before I could grant wishes for fairy godmothers. I then had time to draw whiskers on water melons and tap my chest with an egg whisk while the voices in my head talked to themselves. It was a long evening and I slammed the door in my face.

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My Diary Yesterday

I took a very long time climbing down the steps from one cloud and another. I didn’t reach the ground until after noon, when there I made giant ears from slices of bread and buttered my face. The sun lit a cigarettes and I practiced yoga in a wind tunnel. The dogs made from kiln fired pottery barked outside. I changed to the canine defender and went down the lane with a black cat tucked in my back pocket.

My Diary The End Of Last Week

I had an early start, a flag waving from the military flag pole. I ate a sandwich of fire and water and then played on a battle field taken from the First World War. This done and as a prelude to piloting a space craft across the star desert I placed my hands on the crucifix controls of the rabbit ship – I called one hand Jack and the other Jill. I came home conversing with my glove puppet which changed into a boxing glove when I opened the door

I jumped up suddenly from a deep slumber; a blackbird was speaking to me – I couldn’t understand what it was saying but I was amazed how big its shadow was. I washed the floor where the shadow lay before descending the staircase to the paper gaol. After I meticulously lit the hair on my head I retired to my studio where I tried to remember my 21st Birthday. It was much later in the day that I took off the suit and bought some worms.

I pulled myself out of my bowl of breakfast cereal with a swearing parrot perched on the hat I wore inside out and plucked my violin moustache. I wanted to play on the board game garden but decided to cling to the raft while whale sharks metamorphosed into higher beings and lamb chops invented a spiritual reality where even the poor can gambol. I was a low as I could be and walked to work with a wheelbarrow as a cloud.

My Diary

After dismounting I looked at the still images taken from the black and white film of my life. In these I walked across the polar ice cap wearing only a bathing suit – I was dismayed as my feet are too big and my chest too small (I vowed to exercise more). I held South American pyramids across my front while laying on the ground waiting for my space capsule to be measured). The Mother ship was called Petronella; as was my horse.

My Diary Yesterday

I got up late when the portcullis was already half way down, I sent a message by carrier pigeon just before the iron hit stone with a sound like an ogre pulling on his armoured boots. He went out to battle with an incandescent hero but lost – the ogress reformed and opened a holiday camp for orphaned children. My dark afternoon was spent alone in the tower waiting for a reply – it arrived written in wet sand with an incandescent pen.

My Diary The Day Before Yesterday

I had to clean the Augean Stables before breakfast, feeling tired afterwards for my trip to town to collect serpent droppings for my friends the Frog People. Coming home I invented a house which slots under low bridges and holds escaping prisoners of war (I pulled a television out of the sky and watched it). I then slept under the girders of my imagination – it is rumoured that my imagination took out my inclination for a date that evening.

My Diary Last Sunday

I had a busy morning standing on the pyramid strewn mountains of an unknown (and previously unseen) South American country. I talked about economics with a lazing conquistador before turning him to stone – I later used the stone in my sling. I had a short drum solo before planting some orange flowers in my hat. When I pulled an orange number out at the end of the day I had won a plasticine face with purple stars for eyes.