I spoke first thing to my friend Pegasus about taking off and flying away, then decided to stay on the flat page with illustrations of Seventh Century bronzes (I must remember to write). I spent some time exploring the blank pages, noticing even small imperfections in the paper before wrapping myself around an old cast iron kettle. I considered inventing a time machine but instead made a device that automatically wrote words backwards.
It was a day off for the cardboard people with bases that fold over to hold themselves up. I had to work in a holiday camp for credit cards which wanted to get away from it all. In an alternative reality I was a glowing ball that hit ashen faced skittles (I also thought about living on the Isle of Wight). I had time to potter in the garden before the space criminals came. I dressed in a space suit and carried a sword made from coral.
It was a holiday Sunday and I spent the day on a deserted theatre set among sawdust and wooden horses. I rode a horse into an imaginary western town where I painted a picture on a cactus and shot myself in the foot when trying to perfect a new dance. I was taught the dance by a girl made entirely from cellophane; when looking at her I could see a landscape with apple trees and snakes climbing up wooden ladders.
I hung from trees as the sun tried to shine (I saw its twin swimming in a glass of water – I used the water to christen the frog prince). While hanging like a fruit I saw ants evolve into an advanced civilisation and burn witches with gun powder under their arm pits – my father stored potatoes under his (I buried carrots and spoke with entirely invented words) . I said a hymn backwards remembering my family knew only imaginary numbers.
I woke up suddenly when a giant bird poked its beak through the window. June was downstairs with a bucket over her head – I came down holding an empty cereal packet and then ran to a foreign city to get a bottle of milk (I was pursued by giant dragonflies from the carboniferous era). The middle of the day was bordered by chop sticks and I drew lines with wet paint. After the shadow had sped away I went down the road to hold a wine glass.
I had an early start, pulling my scarf over my head in the face of a sand storm – this is how I cycled round the surface of Mars in 205 days. I sat in a palace whose walls were composed of cheese straws and a strange luminous lichen. After a brief talk with the black currant monk I came home to paint numbers on still water (“still water runs deep”). All evening I sat on a revolving chair – the room revolved in the opposite direction.
I walked all morning across a vast plain filled with a gross vegetation, each leaf of which had big chunks eaten out. I put a telephone to their ears and took notes. The afternoon was an extinct form of rhinoceros while the evening suddenly disappeared as I was summoned from the ski slope in my head to attend a meeting where no one else would turn up. I came home wearing tug boats for shoes with a cruise liner moored outside.