My Diary

I noticed that the giant mouth I had to walk through to emerge from the aluminium stranded cocoon June considers our bedroom (and I consider a mini-submarine) had household electrical items for teeth; I was tempted to turn on the incisor television but in the end listened to a molar radio. I heard the end of the news before it sank like an ancient Greek ship in the Mediterranean – some time later (I am told by the bright white shadows) scientists will ponder over its cleverly integrated cogs and levers and use it to calculate the number of Aztecs it would take to make a hummingbird headdress. After dark a small man with a large hat knocked the door; I introduced myself as a piece of cognizant scaffolding and the house as a forgotten palace of Semele.

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8 thoughts on “My Diary

      • But you say that this gentleman “knocked the door”?
        This is outrageous behaviour! Terribly rude indeed.
        I was jist wondering if, in fact, this rude man had a point? And in fact he was not, as you put it “knocking the door”, but merely stating this it was, perhaps, on the verge of falling to pieces?
        Then, in that circumstance, I would argue that this man was merely being observational.
        So please, can you clear this matter up kind sir?

      • We do actually have front and back doors (which do even fit providing the wind and rain aren’t blowing that way when they don’t and have to be levered shut) and we do occasionally get people knocking on the front one – usually attempting to sell us something.

        We rent a relatively large detached house as I need the studio space but because I am a penniless artist it is cheap and very run down, hence the state of the windows and doors!

      • As an addendum perhaps I should add, because this diary is two years old (the Weekly Diary on Gerald’s Space is the up to date one) I can’t remember what the man was selling – invariably something I didn’t want! I have had some unfortunate experiences on the door step: for example one man knocked to see if we received the local free newspaper (which neither of us actually read) and when I answered in the affirmative proceeded to accidentally knock over a large ornamental pot which was a much loved wedding present and then walked off without saying anything.

      • Ha!
        I mean, ooops!
        I believe we may be a little lost in translation here my friend. When i drew reference to the term you used “knocked the door” the word knocked, without the pivitol word “on” to immediately follow it, in my part of the world is a term we use to degrade something.
        For example: “Them trainers are a fucking knock off!”
        Or
        “Don’t knock it until you try it!”
        So you see, if a gentleman wearing a large hat appraoched my house and knocked my door, he would probably say something like; “this fucking door is
        hanging man!”
        To which, of course, I would be offended. However, if he approached and “knocked on” then I would be forced to answer the door and then quickly close it in his face. I hope this clears things up.

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