My Diary: Fishing For Images In A Sea Of Words

I wanted to go to town early,‭ ‬but as always got distracted:‭ ‬this time by a small figure with paper wings repeatedly hitting my studio window‭; ‬when I got close I found the wings were made from my old thesis‭ (‬The First mention Of Parallel Worlds In The Writings Of Mesopotamia‭); ‬I hoped it wasn’t lost,‭ ‬then persuaded myself it would still be found in another universe‭ ‬-‭ ‬as would I.‭ ‬I left the dog guarding the window and walked to town writing a play for people with fishing boat heads as I did so‭ ‬-‭ ‬the play was a comedy and no fish were caught‭ (‬I personally believe the only fish we should catch are the railway plate kind‭ ‬-‭ ‬thankfully too far inland for conventional trawlers‭)‬.‭ ‬I came back home in too much of a hurry,‭ ‬realising when I got in that I forgotten the main thing I went for.


My Diary: Homage To A Gorilla God

A very early start to the day‭; ‬I even got up before the alarm spoke‭ (‬it speaks every day but I don’t always listen‭) ‬and went to the bathroom with a plaster cast on my head‭ ‬-‭ ‬I would paint it with black and white squares later and then wait for a king or queen.‭ ‬I caught the bus moments before a young girl with a desert landscape on her chest‭; ‬the other passengers sat like cactus waiting for the cool of the night to photosynthesise‭ (‬counterintuitive I know‭)‬.‭ ‬Sometime after this I met the chess master and we talked as we ate,‭ ‬I checked the colour of plants in his garden and then came home before he had called checkmate.‭ ‬I got off in town,‭ ‬which was suspended from a hot air balloon,‭ ‬and walked home under its slowly migrating shadow‭; ‬once there I immediately proclaimed the shadow our house’s own.

My Diary: It Is Daylight Inside And Dark Out

I got up as June,‭ ‬now a bird of prey,‭ ‬flew from one outstretched arm to another.‭ ‬I went into my studio thinking it would save a lot of time if I only exhibited picture frames and then cradled words in my arms that had never been part of a story‭ ‬-‭ ‬I promised to write something for them but the plot escaped me.‭ ‬I had to go out briefly,‭ ‬passing a line of amorphous shapes who secretly hoped I would identify them even though the most meaningful things in this world are actually abstract.‭ ‬I returned to work just before June returned to the house with wings on her ankles that she had borrowed from Mercury‭ ‬-‭ ‬he said he was in no hurry to have them back.‭ ‬That evening the dog and I walked past the derelict house again‭ ‬-‭ ‬I like to pretend that people do actually live there but we just cannot see them.

My Diary: The Philosophy Of Half Eaten Sandwiches

Back in my studio and to celebrate I walked a new picture and then painted the dog.‭ ‬Cymbals clashed as little figures scrambled about in the space above my head‭ (‬my head grew big and small and then shook itself like seaweed‭); ‬I tried to restore some kind of order but then noticed thick black lines being drawn in what should be vacant space:‭ ‬I numbered and named as many as I could although,‭ ‬hopeless as I am,‭ ‬I then had to rub several out again.‭ ‬June came home temporarily and showed me words written on her sandwich‭; ‬I countered by showing her a calendar with all the days rearranged.‭ ‬This will mean what will happen tomorrow already happened yesterday.‭ ‬She left again with bite marks in the bread‭ ‬-‭ ‬which,‭ ‬of course,‭ ‬made the message undecipherable.

My Diary: Is Dog An Astronaut?

The last of my long days in the garden:‭ ‬June was back at work and left the house early as a sequence of numbers which she hoped will be repeated in reverse when she returned.‭ ‬I had dreamt that the lady at the bottom of the road had recited a spell and every living thing could now talk‭; ‬unfortunately when I went outside everything was silent‭ ‬-‭ ‬and remained so even when I cut the grass.‭ ‬Maybe there is a world where the grass cuts humans‭; ‬in which case I hope I find myself in a genteel compost heap,‭ ‬away from the bright green rabble.‭ ‬I laughed at my own jokes as a relatively small lump of earth floated overhead,‭ ‬I was pleased it already had a small tree growing in it.‭ ‬June came home in time to watch the christening of a new space crossbow‭; ‬from this I will explore the universe.

My Diary: Playing With The Fire And Water Children

June and I waited in the bow of ship partly submerged in sand‭; ‬in the distance a Kraken was regrowing from the tip of its own tentacles.‭ ‬The little Vikings came with their long boats in their hands‭; ‬I asked if they had got their own sand yet and we then walked to town to eat and play:‭ ‬we ate under a banyan tree‭ (‬along with a group of quite plump people‭) ‬and then played on the flat and gasping tongue of a dragon‭ ‬-‭ ‬luckily I had a drink in my bag and church bells rang as I opened the top.‭ ‬We all walked home in the footprints of a herd of small dinosaurs‭; ‬I felt confident I could name my steps after the Kings and Queens of England but only impressed myself and the old man playing a grand piano with his teeth who was ambling along behind with the trailing edge of his coat on fire.

My Diary: My Prehistoric Self Portrait

I got up,‭ ‬ignoring the figure with old newspapers for hair and made myself a breakfast of Celtic field patterns.‭ ‬June was munching on the side of a small boat,‭ ‬purportedly made from toothpicks by a French prisoner during the Napoleonic wars.‭ ‬We went out for dinner after I had planted more miniature soldiers‭ ‬-‭ ‬remembering that the soil has to have the appropriate spent cordite and shrapnel content.‭ ‬I came home after dinner leaving June berthed at Long Beach,‭ ‬California.‭ ‬I then played more war games with botanical specimens‭ ‬-‭ ‬sadly neither side could claim victory.‭ ‬When June was ready to come home I walked to town again with a fragment of the Wansdyke earthworks on my forehead.‭ ‬As expected a group of ramblers came up and insisted on walking along it.