My Diary: The Pain Hidden In Your Favourite View

I got up early as I had to go to town inside a small paper bag:‭ ‬the markings on the outside,‭ ‬when viewed from a distance looked like a Carmelite nun embracing the nose cone of a Saturn Five rocket just before take off on the ill fated Apollo Thirteen mission.‭ ‬June dressed as a school teacher playing truant and walked up a path of spat out chewing gum,‭ ‬a sunrise shining on one side of her spectacles and a sunset the other‭ (‬I had‭ ‬already walked the dog the entire length of a king size cigarette‭)‬.‭ ‬While in town I stopped in at the free book shop and read myself before putting me back on the shelf and coming home inside a bag of cat biscuits.‭ ‬I had time to camouflage the house with Scotch thistle leaves before June came home holding her own hand.

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My Diary: Watching Brunhilde As She Watches Me

June surprised me by getting out of bed as a ring of fire with an immortal valkyrie inside‭ (‬I departed from the original story here as I know it to be false‭) ‬and I had to follow with a mast from Noah’s ark obscuring my vision.‭ ‬I was actually not able to start work until it set sail‭ ‬-‭ ‬I duly waited in my studio for the raven to return‭ (‬I know what doves get up to‭!)‬.‭ ‬As it turned out it was June who came in holding a recipe for iced cakes.‭ ‬As the intelligent part of the day faded I sung a song without opening my mouth and scattered seed for a flock of regrets who were preparing to roost‭ (‬I secretly wished I was preparing to migrate but instead signed my name on a walrus tusk and put a model of Stonehenge,‭ ‬as it was in the late neolithic,‭ ‬in a cake tin‭ (‬after,‭ ‬of course,‭ ‬a liberal sprinkling of icing sugar‭)‬.

My Diary: A Story Within A Story

I raced June to the starting line before the morning was fully clothed‭; ‬she curled up on the boa constrictor settee and I caught the monitor lizard bus‭ ‬-‭ ‬between me and my destination was a long series of windows,‭ ‬some of which I looked out of and I some I did not.‭ ‬The ash king and I met as shadows on a bright day‭; ‬he noticed the clouds before me and we both eventually disappeared like a hung up cold caller‭ (‬I steadfastly refuse to say what make of washing machine we own‭)‬.‭ ‬On the way home I found myself in an unfamiliar town:‭ ‬very old people coming one way and very young children the other‭; ‬I positioned myself exactly in between and waited for an arrow called Robin Hood to hit the target in the story a young child was reading to me.

My Diary: Making Promises Inside A Tree Many Feet Above The Ground

June got up songbird early to hang the washing on the line‭ ‬-‭ ‬in the distance another lady was doing likewise with what looked like centurions from a Marian legion of the Late Republic.‭ ‬I looked up to write an invisible poem which started with an angel in sunlight and ended with an eagle of the heart escaping‭ ‬-‭ ‬I vowed to never leave cage door open again and then resurrected my alternative self:‭ ‬he/I danced an aboriginal ceremonial dance to the passing of a friend.‭ ‬That evening I stood outside a deserted house and pretended I could see conversation uttered decades before rise like smoke.‭ ‬On the walk home I lit up a pen and circled sad thoughts floating above a row of laughing heads that I had strung like beads around a multistorey neck‭ ‬-‭ ‬June got the clothes off the line‭ (‬they were dry‭)‬.

My Diary: Still Waiting To Wake Up From A Bad Dream

I put a small part of the day under one of three shells and rearranged them‭ ‬-‭ ‬try as I might I couldn’t find this part of the day again and was extremely late getting into the room at the end of one thousand steps‭; ‬I sat down on the cat as I couldn’t find the chair.‭ ‬June.‭ ‬as is her want,‭ ‬went wing walking to the local shopping centre on the upper wing of a de Havilland Tiger Moth‭ ‬-‭ ‬she planned to come home on the lower wing but I decided to meet her half way and we had tea in the open cockpit.‭ ‬We got back to the dragon’s tail house so I could return to spreading margarine on whole wheat canvas and I quickly retired to the forward gun turret of HMS Nelson and played the digital piano up the central sixteen inch gun barrel.‭ ‬I composed a musical painting entitled‭ “‬The Broadside‭”‬.

My Diary: My Imagination On Another Planet Orbiting Another Sun

I had to swim in dry soil during the opening page of the morning‭; ‬June,‭ ‬as usual,‭ ‬skipped the boring bits,‭ ‬had a quick bath and went out.‭ ‬By the time I had found reliably wet land another hour had escaped my version of the morning‭ (‬carefully constructed on the bonnet of a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost‭) ‬along a fault line of my own making.‭ ‬June had constructed her world on a Model T Ford‭ (‬which had been crossed soon after the i had been dotted‭) ‬and was busy embracing the overtaking lights of a fairy tale dual carriageway.‭ ‬She rang me to talk in bright lights while shielding her eyes from the noise‭; ‬I returned the call,‭ ‬speaking the truth in boolean algebra and lies in the mythic scenery of Mount Parnassus just before a continually false dawn.

My Diary: Inventing Half A Character In Half A Story

I woke and found myself hanging from a thread like fruit on a tree‭ (‬if I was asleep I would have called the tree knowledge,‭ ‬as I was awake I called it the exoskeleton of an amoeboid protozoan‭); ‬June,‭ ‬who was busy turning random lengths of wood into a rudimentary supercomputer,‭ ‬cut the thread:‭ ‬all recollection was lost until I accidentally drew a circle like Giotto.‭ ‬I was just going to paint a fresco celebrating the life of St Francis of Assisi when the door was knocked from both sides at once and two little people tiptoe waltzed in.‭ ‬I continued their dance on the ceiling before falling out with the plastic chandelier and crashing to the sherry trifle of a floor as royalties to an anonymous author.‭ ‬The four of us went out onto the flight deck of a nuclear powered aircraft carrier and stood quite still.