My Diary

After a protracted start I became one with the so called concrete dormice that hibernate in the waste land behind the garden; hidden by graffiti.

I looked in the window of a house that that was rapidly travelling past me and saw something I hadn’t notice before: I am actually a midget standing on a the shoulder of a gigantic version of myself.  I didn’t bother waving as I would be too small to be seen.

I got home late today.

My Diary

Poppy and I walked out of the ring this morning.  From outside, all those within have Plasticine features; constantly metamorphosing into something else.  The birds were singing.

I spent the rest of the day experimenting in cocoon construction (imagining the beginnings of a silk worm culture).  While doing this I invented the world’s first fabric bomb.  I haven’t fashioned it into a coat yet.

My Diary

I woke up as part of the bacterial mass that permeates the open pores of rocks below ground.  I heard the magma murmur below like the rumble of underground trains.  I wondered if there are any tube trains on Neptune or if the tubes are occupied by giant worms (the ones with a multitude of lights on their sides imitating skyscrapers).

As a member of the bacterial race I have time to contemplate our universal existence.  This is much harder to do as a stick insect swaying on the statue of broken humanity.

My Diary

At times during my life I have contemplated living in a breakfast cereal packet beside an empty sea. However, I spent the day in a biscuit tin; people would drop in like leaves.

Sometimes you hear a noise and then an express train comes out of one wall and goes into another.  The latest one was followed by a flock of seagulls.

On the way home I imagined I was carrying myself; thankfully I wasn’t too heavy.  While I was being carried I wondered again if we are all one person.

My Diary

I could have had a day by the seaside but the envelope I posted myself in wouldn’t open.  It is a good thing I wrote “return to sender” on the back.

Smoke from the 11.04 to London Waterloo told me that children are born from discarded chewing gum stuck on the platform.

My Diary

There was a huge expanse of filling in the sandwich; like a landscape of rolling hills between two very small slices of bread.  While I am writing this, a landscape on giant legs walks up to the window, looks in, then walks away.  If I could drive I would have got a car on legs and followed it.

It was raining.  I drew the curtains and saw a cloud.

My Diary

I walked through the mirror into my childhood; unfortunately I couldn’t go out to play as the door wouldn’t open.

I must confess to being disillusioned with myself; I waste so much time masquerading as lampposts or other innocuous pieces of indoor or outdoor furniture.  I should really be a Ferris wheel or big dipper.

I found my imaginary hat on the invisible floor, lifted it up and a rabbit appeared; it could speak 16 different languages including seal and porcupine.