My Diary

I walked June to work again in the calligraphised snow; the skeletons coming down the road couldn’t fill out their overcoats and the musk ox headed man couldn’t park his car – we watched for a little while as he finally put the basket ball in the net, admittedly with the help of a small flock of storm petrels (they subsequently went back to sea with a strip of plastic clothes pegs – never as good as wooden ones – and half a rotary clothes line). Once I got in my studio I conceived the idea of painting the picture of a dog using the tail of a cat – unfortunately I had to postpone the experiment when the cat parachuted onto the air condition unit of Death Valley using an especially modified flat cap. I stood like a cactus collecting snow until June returned from work with a porcupine in her handbag.


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