the third arm

That's irritating

2012-01-23T10:49:00.004Z

I saw this bald guy talking to a bunch of lost souls and he kept moving his hands, round and round and round, like he thought it was the thing to do. It gave me a headache so I turned away.

He was talking about escaping the ego but he himself was a giant ego.

What do you mean, anyway? Give me something honest to hold onto, like grabbing a magic horse. Yeah, if someone told me to find a magic horse in the treetops and to grab onto its mane and take off and fly then I'd do that. Stop telling me to let go and be free. That's too easy, man.

I'm irritated by these false prophets. I'm not moved by them in a positive way one bit. Nobody really seems to get the fucking nothing, man. Nobody gets it!

What's going on with Russia!? I don't know what to do. I saw this guy yesterday get totally in a sweat because some chick found out the code to his underground cave where he did some kind of bad shit. "Is this the collective unconcious?" I thought. No. It was just a dream.

Sometimes, when I'm picking oranges out in the field, I come across thoughts which I don't like. They irritate me. Thoughts like, "What am I gonna do tonight?" or "I wonder why this Earth's here?" or "Peas make soup but I'm a gloop." What is that shit, man?

I'll tell you what else irritates me. The good ol' USA. Someone said, "I was away for years and things were going wrong but then I got the money together and now I'm home in the USA."

Man, if you'd been away for years you wouldn't talk like that. No way. That just irritates me.

Anything else?

Sure, lots of things. But I don't want to go on and on about them. That sort of thing irritates me.

God! Everything's so darn irritating!

Famous Blue Raincoat Leonard Cohen

2011-12-29T21:20:00.002Z

It´s ten in the evening, the end of December and I´m writing this now just to see if I´m better. Lapland is cold but I like where I´m living; there´s music on the radio all through the evening.

I hear that you´re building your little tree house up in the tree. You´re living on nothing now, I hope you´re eating some kind of food.

Oh, by the way, Jane came by with a lock of your hair...she said that you gave it to her that night that you planned to hunt deer. Did you ever hunt deer?

Geezo, the last time we saw you you looked so much colder, your thick winter jacket was torn at the shoulder. You´d been up to the ski station to try to train and you came home without that Dane (what was his name again?)

And then you gave my wife a cadbury´s flake and ever since then she´s caused nothing but strife.

It´s funny. I picture you there with the gypsy who had cadbury´s roses for teeth...hang on, that´s Jane up, she wants me to get her a cuppa..back in a mo...

Jane sends her bests.

What can I say, bro, killa? I haven´t really got much news. I suppose I should say I miss you and all that, and I don´t mind that you broke my bike; if you hadn´t I might have ended up hurting myself.

If you swing by at any point to see any of us you should know that the fatman is too lazy these days to cause any hassle and his girlfriend is always up for a bit of a fling.

I meant to say cheers for removing that bit of dirt from Jane´s eyes. It had been troubling her for months and I thought it was just part of her so I didn´t even attempt to get it out.

Jane came by with a lock of hair...oh, I think I´ve already told you.

Anyway, laters,

Yumen

Sumpton

2011-11-10T09:07:00.002Z

Sumpton court on a November morning, two hundred and thirty three years ago. Do you remember walking through the rain and getting into the old hall? George was waiting for us with a nice cup of tea and you were getting ready to go to India?

I can even remember the smell of the place..fresh wooden floor. A carriage pulled up outside and this girl got out. My god! I haven't seen such beauty since. She was perfect.

Honest cold

2011-10-10T06:34:00.003Z

Hello. My favourite time of day is between about 6am and 9:30am. I like the feeling of things getting started and I like the light, and I like the dark winter mornings and having cereals inside and preparing for the cold. I like that stuff. The cold is our friend, much more so than the heat. The cold will be honest with us.

stoner ad

2011-09-08T21:30:00.003Z

there was this anti weed tv campaign commissioned by the government and these guys did it in such a way that the government would have thought it was getting the message across but to the real weed smokers it's actually a secret message from two stoners who have managed to fool the tv and government guys into thinking they were super straight and it's saying "hey guys! hey, stoners! we're with you, dudes! we're fuckin' with you, man!"

I'm so merrily lonely

2011-09-07T12:23:00.003Z

I'll tell you what...why doesn't everything just go!?

So much HATE!

I can't stand this angry sadness. No! No! NO!

Nothing works! Nothing! It's ALL stupid! EVERYTHING!

Why? Why do I have to live with these people? What's wrong?! It's not fair. Nothing's fair. The whole lot of everything is stupid, stupid, stupid.

I'm so LONELY! Aaaargh!

Ha ha ha ha!

Many, many months without a snooger.

2011-08-31T14:22:00.002Z

Months without a booger and then bam!

I opened all the windows in the flat today and a bird flew in and through. There was a lot of green outside; the big tree, the meadow, the tank, the algae, the camouflage jacket I lost when I was ten, the peanut butter. The sky was blue and the wind was breezing along.

"Hello!" I said to the world.

"Hello!" said the world.

I hopped in the car and drove down to the beach where I looked for shellfish and identified them with my new shellfish of the British Isles identification guide. But I wasn't in Britain - I was in Switzerland. Oh well, I thought.

Dusty feet.

2011-08-29T10:46:00.003Z

He didn't underestimate the imagination of his readership, he got it just right. You can explain too much and you can explain too little, both a kind of arrogance. Just put a ring on his finger and tell me the colour of his robe...I will do the rest.

He has dusty feet and a wonderful smile.

The little wooden flute

2011-08-29T10:42:00.002Z

Wow, he said as he moved away from his ordinary imagination and delved into darkness. It's dark down here, but I'm confident of finding light again. I am not afraid.

He walked and walked and he didn't lose touch with himself and his belief and after three days he found that light and a whole new world opened up to him...the world he had been dreaming about. It was all there - the blue and white pyjamas and the fluffy pillows, the horses and the little rivers. All of it there for the picking. He whistled a song and learned to play the little wooden flute which he'd carried in his pocket for three years.

Hello, said the cow.

2011-07-27T11:04:00.002Z

Down a couple of points, up one. Three to the left and then they're off! Look at them go!

Last year, at three o'clock, I met a cow in the main train station in the city of the country.

Hello, I said.

Hello, said the cow.

Just a couple of points

2011-07-22T12:52:00.003Z

Can I just point out that those who achieve their dreams have nothing left to dream about and they are drifting boats then, in space.

I'd also like to stress the importance of mental exploration.

One more thing: old people seem to be less inclined to tell the rest of the world what's important and what's not.

That's all for now. Except to say that teachers are not just excess sticks in the forest. They are trees, man.

Shipping houses

2011-07-14T08:04:00.002Z

Well, it's been three years. I've got a horse again but I live on the sixth floor and she's finding it hard clattering up the stairs, which are wooden and three hundred years old. The other day, from a smell, I discerned the cry of a master, looking for his chisel.

Back straight, shoulders back. How do you know if your back is straight? I asked that question to a girl I met at a country mansion. She said she had a chip inserted in her brain which was connected to all the bones in her body and she could determine position from that. I said that was amazing and then I walked off. I heard later that she had been arrested for lying.

In the garden of that mansion there was a maze. It wasn't very big but it was enough to get lost in. There has been a man in that maze for nine years and sometimes helicopters drop him food. There are taps for water on every corner. If I was him I'd just choose a direction and start cutting through the bushes.

Maybe he's scared.

I'm not scared, though I've heard that in London there are shipping containers which have been converted into houses, painted yellow and red and blue and that.

rhythm and rhyme

2011-07-01T08:34:00.003Z

With my fat bastard I thee wed, with lakes of fire and fuel.

In light of sorry I take you to bed, in lakes of fire and fools.

I've got so chubby and can't be a hubby

And a spanner is a type of a tool.

It was quiet, though.

2011-07-01T08:19:00.004Z

Fire engines, aye. Flyeen down the motorway, like, at twenty miles an hour, drifteen, forgeteen what it was they were flyeen too and then suddenly the driver sees the smoke and it's huge and he knows that there is a farm which won't be saved and he says as much to the other boys who come out of their individual reveries and say that it's a shame but why shouldn't they go swimmeen and then one of them gets angry and violent so the others tie him down and they stop the truck and get out and put on robes and stand in a circle and pray to the ultimate universe to calm down their colleague and he calms down and they are all thankful and then the farmer turns up and he is pissed off because they could have actually done sometheen and saved his farm and he says this stuff has been happeneen too often and he had no choice but to complain to the administrators in the city and the faces of the firemen fell and blanched and the farmer was sorry for the state of the world and he said it had all been better in the past.

Above them all they sky was black with the smoke of the flames of the farm. It was quiet though.

Guten morgen mein schatz, mein schatz, mein schatz.

2011-07-01T08:14:00.002Z

I am a Japanese garden, or any zen place in Asia. I am the sound of little cymbals, calling you for a seat and tea. I am loose and it's the first of July.

Straighten your back, knight, and concentrate on right mind. I am a yoga guide and a night in the forest, a clear night near mossy banks and streams of silver. I am a fresh draught and a smile you didn't ask for.

Loopy loo, think positively and it will come to you, you, you.

Good morning!

Eleven

2011-06-27T07:48:00.002Z

I can't access my happiness. I've been flooded with loneliness. I feel sick. Why have you gone and done this? Where are my memories?

These were some of the questions people were asking themselves last night, when eighteen members of the community were taken away by aliens of the fifth and ninth orders.

Hoola boo! I said.

There was a tree in the garden and we talked beneath it.

Hoola boo. Cwan tik lemons snee? Por que?

Eleven.

Eleven!

Spewey

2011-06-20T08:13:00.002Z

Kwing. I was in a yellowy orange room with a bath. Someone had been there many years before and I understood that. She broke her leg later and I said, she was always doing that.

Before the canteen there was nothing. A faint memory of Canadienne, drifting. Quasi-modo, I've left you unadorned at the top of your tower. I'm sorry.

Cleft memories, drifting. Handled soup spoons caressing. New grasses, hillocks under shade. Where are you, where are you?!

I feel sick.

Serves you right.

2011-06-13T15:43:00.004Z

Good afternoon silence.

I said good afternoon silence.

Okay, be like that. I've got better things to do than talk to you. For example, I could read.

Oh yeah? Whatya reading?

Nothing to do with you silence. It's my business.

Oh well, you won't want to hear about the hotel then.

What hotel?

Doesn't matter.

No, tell me.

Nah, it's not important. What's that?

This? It's an orange. What do you mean about the hotel?

Sorry, too late. Serves you right for being an asshole.

Arrogant romantics

2011-06-01T06:31:00.002Z

Tram rides, subway rides, at five in the morning...the wrong way, actually buses, drunk. What's this? Who are you? And you, too...why have you come? Hiding me in the wrong family...we used to belong together, but now the bonds are breaking.

Skipping on subway platforms can be dangerous, but I'm very good. Ten two feet, ten left, ten right, ten two. Switch, switch, switch, switch. Pretty damn fast, looks and feels good, man.

So, what do you think of this? Vladivostok took my arm and led me down to....Robert Jordan, the man whom we told to take care of things. We missed the raid, should have been done last night. That's what really happened.

Arrogant romantics. There's something about them....

You're telling me...

2011-05-31T07:39:00.002Z

Started on chapter seven then went on to chapter four. Chubby girl involved in green garden, quite secret and on a hill within the city, but out of bounds.

Hey! What's this? It's out of time, a traveller. Do you belong here, object?

No, I don't. I'm an illegal alien.

Oh, that's a shame. Would you like to come fishing?

No, I'm non-human.

What?

I said, I've gone soomin'.

What does that mean?

I don't know!

Mental!

You're telling me!

Yeah. Goodbye.

2011-05-26T20:59:00.003Z

Seventeen miles of stone in a long line called me a white boy.

I'm no white boy, I said, take that back.

No, said the miles of stone. You are a white boy, even if you don't want to be.

I'm a red man, I said.

No. You may want to be a red man, but you are truly a white boy.

But it's not the time for white boys.

It's always the time for everyone. It's always the time for you...otherwise you wouldn't be here. You 'll have to trust me on that one.

What are you to call me this or that anyway?

I'm seventeen miles of stone, and I've seen a lot. I've seen all these years of history, I've seen cities at night and I've been caught in the crossfire in the mountains, when rebels destroyed a train.

Seventeen miles of stone. Well, let me tell you: I am a man.

Big deal, sunshine. You come and go. I'm here forever.

I can't believe it. I can't believe that you are better than I am.

Nobody said anything about better.

You implied it!

That's true.

Listen, stone. I think we've got off on the wrong foot.

Don't talk to me anymore. I can't stand to fall into nothingness. I know other men who appreciate what I do.

I'm sorry.

Forget it. Farewell.

Goodbye. Goodbye you miles of stone.

Yeah.

Good bad

2011-05-26T07:47:00.003Z

Ha ha ha! We're so stupid! We're so silly! We're spontaneously combusting! We didn't see that one coming...you're so right! Ha ha ha! How crazy, how wild, how spiffing, how stupendous...oh, isn't it just amazing? This is really great! Ha ha ha! How cool, how great, how wonderful! Ha ha ha! He he he! Ho ho! We're so...

I wish I was dead.

Hickory dickory two

2011-05-23T09:41:00.001Z

It was a cold clock, in a strange room. The angles weren't quite right, and it was out of space and time. There was something sinister about it...but maybe that was my imagination. It felt like it knew the world of infinity, and that it was laughing at us. A cold old clock indeed.

Hickory dickory dock

2011-05-23T09:34:00.003Z

I can't help it. I'll always be here. It's as true as the sky near a lighthouse. Just sitting here, waiting. I wish I knew why.

Where are you going in such a hurry? Don't leave me here...don't leave me all alone...please...

Our current hearts went boom! and suddenly there was no cake left. The grass across the hills was cropped short by sheep and grazing horses. I caught one, a horse, and led it to the sea. I showed it the principles of boat building and it helped me to construct a raft on which we sailed to South America and there inspired a revolt which changed the course of rivers and history. Five people were injured, none of them seriously.

There is a goodness in this world. Our job is to root it out and expose it. Look! Look here you people! This is a fine example of a garden! What do you think?

We think aye!

Aye! For it is. And now, for the pudding, I give you a round of applause.

Clap, clap, clap.

It's not easy

2011-05-23T08:59:00.002Z

Here's an idea for the under 40s. Do it yourself. Don't expect me to be in on it, though, I've always felt left out and now I'm happy that way. I'll never be one of you...you are a different species. Maybe you want the same but you show it different. It's not easy.

The hairs on my hands

2011-05-23T08:54:00.003Z

I have a balloon, she said. You can use it, but you'll have to download the instructions from one of the computers in the house.

I tried the rooms downstairs and found nothing. Upstairs I found a clue which said the instructions were in the storecupboard, behind the food. I found them.

There was a metal mesh harness and the balloon was at the top of a tall tree. It was enough to carry us both and that is what it did, until a cave on the corner of a river. Behind a bluff we found a band playing, and a gathering of spectators.

From there it was a short journey of fathers.

The next day and night I found myself with old friends, in their country. I didn't feel welcome anymore. In fact, there was an issue with the keys.

The hairs on my hands grow longer.

Twilight rounders, not bad.

2011-05-23T08:37:00.002Z

Days often begin with a walk out of the village to the pastures to milk the cows. We like the dew and the smell. There is a fine view of the sea too. On a nice morning it's really great.

After breakfast a few of us head into the forest to find good wood and stone for the building of our village. It's taking shape rather nicely. I like the rough paved paths between our houses and the road, and I like that we've left many of the old trees in place. Mid-morning we stop our work and have a bite to eat. I often have a thick slice of beef in bread. I love that break, with a cup of tea. Usually we eat in silence and then have a bit of craic before getting back to the job in hand. We don't want to destroy the forest - we'll come back here in a generation and renew the village. It's all about keeping busy - build and destroy, build and destroy - make bridges, houses, roads, paths, fences, boats, harbours. Build and destroy.

We carry our things back to the village and everyone sits down to a good lunch, some together, some at home. There are good smells coming from fires and I like the sound of wine glasses and plates here and there. We eat and then go to the toilet, eat and then go to the toilet, eat and then go to the toilet. It's great. Our toilets are one of our proudest achievements. So clean and easy to use.

After a snooze it's time for shaping. We turn our materials into shelters and other such stuff. The hours are happy. We help each other and we help ourselves. Build and destroy, build and destroy.

In the evening we practise music or other arts, or play a game. The grass is long in the meadow in the middle...great for rounders. Bang! I hit that ball for miles and it landed in Geoff's half-finished house and a couple of the kids ran in and got it.

The old woman who lives in a shoe

2011-05-16T15:57:00.001Z

I spoke to the old lady who lives in a shoe today and she told me to always do something with your hands - fix something or create something. Get oil or paint on your hands, every day. Otherwise you may as well forget it all, she says.

Boots on and away we go

2011-05-16T08:47:00.003Z

Escape with me, to another reality. It's very green there, very green and earthy. There's also plenty of water, and adventures. Do you want to come? Well, put your boots on then.

I left him there with the book in his hands, pensive like.

2011-05-16T08:24:00.004Z

I saw Aaron today, for the first time in ages. Still in the diner, still trapped, still watching dust blowing across the desert through the big windows. He'd cleaned the place up a bit.

"Hi Aaron. How are you?"

"Man, you know, the stuff I write is like a waste of time. It's just rubbish, isn't it? It's a clash on a page and I sometimes think of it as art. Really it's just a lazy variation of boredom. It's like splashing paint onto a canvas and saying it means something. It's like I say, here, look at this, this is my feeling, these are my nerve endings.....and it would be bad enough if that's what they were. But it's not even that, it's just stretched out strings of longing, raw and untamed. That's not art, man. It's trash, it's nothing. Why do you keep coming here?"

"I have a gut feeling that it's going to be okay. I've brought a book for you. It's about style and characterization. I think you should read it."

"Thanks, man. You're kind. I appreciate that."

"No worries Aaron. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah, cheers. See you next time."

And I left him, looking at the book.

Last minute you

2011-05-16T07:50:00.002Z

Solitude broke my hunger, turned me under. I haven't known who or what or why...but I've got a gut feeling that it's you, and a story and because of love.

Solitude tore through my undercover world and ripped the roots of my soul from the rocky earth. Now, tossed on high winds, I wait for what will come. I believe it will be exciting.

Solitude took away just now, and left me lonely in another time.

Solitude, not loneliness, is what is responsible for this lack of fine art. You are last minute.

Then I went home.

2011-05-16T07:38:00.003Z

This is nice. A holiday from form. I am in a high-walled garden, sitting at a iron table, on an iron chair, all painted white. My mother is with me, and an old couple. There is no wind, just a high sun. I am wearing sandals.

The truth of the matter is that there is no matter. I saw a character called John. He was visiting Madrid and he was all alone. I followed him through main streets and narrow streets and eventually he came to a house. He turned and saw me looking at him before he entered. He didn't seem surprised to see me.

What are you doing, John? I thought to myself. I followed him into the house. The doors were old and (dangerous?). A dim hall and stairway were all I found, the stairway coming to a broken halt about half way up to the first floor.

Hello?

Hello. Welcome here. Take off your shoes, please.

The voice. It reminded me of someone. Too deep for John.

I can't take my shoes off. They were welded to my feet by a jiggly wee alien.

Then turn, and go!

I turned, and went. I went to a corner shop and bought a bag of crisps and ate them while sitting on a bench under a tree.

Then I went home and made a list of things I'd like to do the next day and thought for a while about my childhood near the sea. Will I ever be free?

Where does it take us?

2011-05-15T19:06:00.003Z

He's more like, let's get wasted and see where that takes us.

It takes us to Rosemarkie. It takes us three years, two months and five days. It takes us to a boat we built ourselves. It takes us up a ramp and down the other side, into a wooded glen. It takes us round the corner and there's a house!

What kind of house?

A big house, made of stone and wood. It's got wooden balconies and a simple yet beautiful eave.

Just one eave?

Yes, where the other one would be is a carving of a mermaid, slithering along. She's huge, and she has lanterns hung from her at various points...from her arms and her nipples there are lanterns.

And what about the balconies - what's special about them?

The plant boxes, overflowing with flowers. Geraniums and pansies for the most part, though there are other plants among them. I'm not an expert, I couldn't tell you the names. The door is guarded by a fearsome mouse, with yellow hair and an evil eye.

It takes us past the house and out into the sea, through a narrow channel and into the age of dinosaurs. It takes us nine months and there you have it. A child.

A child! What potential!

Indeed. Who will this child become? Will this child become a good person, or a bad? Will this child just fade, and die?

No! We'll write a story and the child will become a soul and sing, and live and be.

How can it be? How can we decide?

Hold your own soul aloft and shout out praise to clouds and the infinite; that's the way I think it happens.

Why do you think that?

I don't know, to be honest. It just feels right, do you know what I mean?

I know, my friend, I know.

Who's for another Jagermeister?

2011-05-15T18:36:00.002Z

George smiled.

"Oh, Simon! Sometimes you come out with the funniest things! How on Earth could an angel have appeared to you in the toilet cubicle, at Sanders Restaurant of all places? It's ridiculous and I'm almost angry you've even said it; Clive Sanders is a good friend of mine."

"And what's it got to do with Clive where angels appear?" asked Simon, a little too sharp for George.

"Listen, you piece of shit. Clive Sanders has been fighting the angel influence for thirteen years. It was angels who killed his wife, angels who scratched his car, angels who caused that storm in eighty-nine which totally messed up his hair. Don't start with me, son, or I'll take you outside and make you the pudding, got it?"

"You want to make the pudding for me?"

"No, I'll beat you and grind you and mix you with apples and turn you into a pie."

Now it was Susan's turn to get upset.

"Boys! Keep it together, can't you? This is one of my favourite eateries; I don't want you ruining it for me. George, you can't mix human with apples, everybody knows that. And Simon - let's forget about the angels, shall we? I know you've been through a lot in the last couple of months but it's not nice to pull us into it; we've all got our own worries."

"Sorry, Susan," said George.

"Yeah, sorry," said Simon.

"Friends again?" asked Susan, looking from one to the other.

The two men shook hands across the table, keeping their eyes down.

"Good. Now, who's for another Jager-bomb?"

Totally doing my head in

2011-05-15T18:34:00.002Z

This man had an accident, right, and he totally lost all his memory, like, and now he can't even remember who he is and I've been trying to send him emails to say how sorry I am, coz it was me who pushed him, but he can't access his email account because he doesn't know who he is and it's totally doing my head in.

An angel

2011-05-15T18:14:00.003Z

The point, quite simply," said George, "is procreation. Nothing more, nothing less. Just get on with it, no matter how difficult it is."

"I disagree," said Susan. "I think that there's more to it than that - otherwise why would I have memories of yellow and ancient feelings of history?"

"They'll be explainable - a hangover from our days in the trees. There will be mechanisms which we evolved with but which we no longer need."

Simon snorted.

"I think you're talking out your arse, George. The point is redness, is art. The goal of us all is to prove ourselves to God through our own creations."

It was George's turn to snort.

"What the fuck?! Since when have you believed in God?"

"Since about five minutes ago," said Simon.

"And what happened five minutes ago to change you so significantly?" asked Susan, who was also surprised by Simon's statement.

"An angel appeared before me in the toilet cubicle and gave me a revelation," said Simon, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Susan and George glanced at each other, questioning.

Some other chick was flirting

2011-05-06T08:21:00.004Z

Great Scot! Where are we going today? Sucked up into the internet again. You've got to be careful that you don't get pushed away by the rest of mankind. The crowd doesn't care. Write to your friends more often - send them a postcard.

I was coming down a hill, passing under a bridge with some pals. They were in their twenties. We found a grave with a neon sign on it which said MOM. It was the conceptual mother of one of my friends, the girl with orange hair. It was well taken. It was wet and apart from the bridge there was lots of greenery about, and an old abandoned building. Around the corner was my house, where my father was getting ready to go and pick up my mother from the airport. Can you give me and my girl a lift? No, I'm gonna pick up some fish and put them on top of the suitcase in the backseat.

Didn't want to give that lift, wanted to go alone. Fine with me. Some other chick was flirting.

It's the morning and I love thee

2011-05-04T09:07:00.003Z

You know that feeling of summer holiday, when you're little? That's my life all the time.

It's great. Right now I'm in a tree, an old tree that's on its side almost, and I'm looking out across some green plains and history and I'm thinking about how much you and I have in common. The garden is dark and yet tended well. It's the morning and I love ye.

Too much money

2011-05-04T09:00:00.006Z

We drove for hours across the moors. Eventually we arrived at Weston-Super-Mare. It reminded me of a city lost to the forces of evil, to a fraternity that sponsored Satan.

Why have we come here?

To see it. To see if it's real and to eat the ice-cream which tastes like cardboard.

I hate this place.

So do I, son, but it's important to mix the good and the bad things.

What about going to Spain next week?

As you wish.

Mountain saws, big saws, cutting through metal and rock

2011-05-04T09:00:00.004Z

Yeah, totally mountainside enclosed area, man. Totally got a saw on the top of my head and we melted the gates and escaped but we didn't know where we were escaping to. Thing it was Guinea. Are you opening doors or is it me?

I believe in something.

Quick! Run! Quick!

2011-05-04T08:02:00.002Z

A wee door into another world, sometimes in a cave, sometimes in a loft. Guarded or watched over by a wee man, a fairy who'd done nothing wrong. He was green in the cave version, and came out in front of a car. The door really went into another world, I feel like more adventurous. People started coming from all over, bit of a tourist attraction.

Bikes, old and new. Taken care of by father, whose house remained the same. There had been a murder and there was blood on the beach and that was rare evidence, collected it all and put it in the back of a car.

There were foreign trips.

Searching for clues to the whereabouts of the murderer, upstairs in the barn, in the loft, through the door into another world. Up the ladder, find a bag and there inside are his ciggies and also a box full of bars of chocolate. The place is a mess. Where is the guardian fairy? Quick! Run, back to the house, he comes! Where are my shoes?! Where are my shoes?! Quick, Jim! My nephew is coming!

Take the pressure off

2011-04-26T07:48:00.001Z

A classic example of impf yesterday, hit me right between the eyes. I had been working on a new philosophy when Jane came by on her motorbike and asked if I wanted any eggs. No, thank you, I replied and she drove off again. We haven’t got that much to say to one another.

In the evening I picked up a book on wood and read for a little while. Then I made a cup of herbal tea. Then I ate a pair of socks. Then I called my mum in Senegal. Then I repaired the fridge. Then I went to bed.

The next morning was bright and sunny. Before breakfast I always climb a tree and there is a very nice one in the garden. I clambered up and took a good look at the world. Hello, I said. I’m coming to live. It was a sunny morning, just lovely.

Need to put some weight on my wrists, no?

2011-04-26T07:35:00.002Z

Well. There was an electrical storm in another world and as a result a pilot ended up in this world in the form of a chimp. His instruments told us that he was 89% Jesus Christ. When some of his own people came looking for him we hid him but then one of our autistic brothers brought him out for them and they sedated him and took him away. As a pilot, years before, he had had a run-in with our very own James Bond and James always remembered it. The pilot had thought he was dead but he was just faking - the bullet had grazed his cheek and nose, that's all.

This is my task in life

2011-04-25T19:29:00.003Z

It's my duty to take my heart and slap it up against this glass wall and smear it there and say 'come on then, God, show us what to do with this fucking thing. Don't just sit there smirking; show me how to activate it. Or are you too arrogant?'

That's my task in life, and I've been taking it too literally. I cannot remove my heart without dying, and I can't find the glass wall. I don't even know about God, or if it's arrogant.

Got to keep on trying though - nothing else makes sense now. Got to squeeze my heart against the dark glass wall at the edge of the Universe and cry. For all our sakes. That's my task in life. I wish it were better defined, and more enjoyable to watch.

Witness to the beauty

2011-04-25T13:28:00.003Z

Hey! Hey soldier, brother, sister, sailor! Ever needed nothing and come up trumps? Ever hurled yourself for fifteen years at the same wall and never broke through but kept the faith? Fool. Ever been angry like this? Ever known?

I call you into question because.

This is wonderful.

Wasabi Easter

2011-04-25T13:20:00.002Z

The eighteenth wasabi pea died within me. I had no warning. It had been poisoned.

Why?! I cried.

No answer.

We had been on our way to a ceilidh which was being held in honour of the pope, who had recently visited Rome and said he like that style of dancing. Three hundred girls were dressed in red and I was to have been at the head of the table in my bananaman costume which I have had since I was six. The pope was going to sing Oh Come All Ye Faithful and at the end we were all going to pretend we were lobsters. I was looking forward to it.

Somebody had given me a tin of wasabi peas in the house that afternoon.

What are these? I asked.

Wasabi, a gift, for you. With love from me. I can't remember who it was, who said those words.

There were nineteen peas in the tin and the eighteenth one was poisoned and died within me and the sorrow I felt meant that the night had to be cancelled. We turned the car around and I went straight to bed.

A dreadful way to celebrate Easter.

Electronics and modern art

2011-04-19T13:12:00.003Z

This is for people who want it, she said as she laid the pudding on the table.

I want some! I said.

Me too! said Billy.

Well on you go, take some, she said.

We took some. It was pudding. Afterwards we went out to climb the tree in the yard. It was big and old. I had a red ball, about the size of a fist. I threw it at Billy when he was up in the tree and it hit him on the leg.

What was that for? he said.

Nothing, I replied.

Do it again and I'll kill you, he said.

I picked up the ball and threw it again. It hit him in the ribs.

Billy suddenly grew bat-like wings and flew down from the tree. He grabbed me by the hair of my head and flew up again, very high. He carried me over to the canyon and let go of me above the rocks. I fell and landed on a pile of hay which had been left there by our uncle for the sheep when they came back down later that evening.

I ran back to the house and saw Billy sitting in the tree, brooding. I picked up a stone and threw it at him. It hit him on his temple and he fell, unconscious, to the floor. He landed on his head and broke his neck. I buried him quickly and went inside to brush my teeth and read a book on electronics and modern art.

What's happened?

2011-04-19T12:27:00.001Z

Creativity spawns a lack of generosity on your part. You used to be so accommodating and now you won't even give me the rotten twig of a birch tree to sit on or write my name. What's happened?

Reality, check.

2011-04-19T12:21:00.003Z

Spirituality, man. What's the point of discussing anything else? Where do you stand? What do you do? Are you a monk, like me, or just another banker? What I'm saying is, do you wear sandals? Coz I do. I wear sandals out, like. And God is in my heart constantly, and questions of faith are what I stand on.

That's how I'm wobbling, like.

Okay, big bang. But what's there before it, and what's outside the stretchiness of space and time? Nothing but my own design of conciousness, green hilled and valleyed, with good views of the sea and regular fights with George and his minions.

Ah HATE George and his many minions!

It's colder inside than it is ootside.

Cholestorol

2011-04-19T12:07:00.003Z

I don't know what to make of anything. All guidance welcome, especially stuff which I understand instantly and which makes everything suddenly clear. I love that kind of guidance, it's the stuff I thrive on. Do you know the sort?

I'm sure you do.

Give us some, gov'na, just a bit. I'm dying for it.

Tom's a brick, don't you think?

2011-04-19T11:59:00.002Z

Thomas ate his own arm for charity yesterday.

The man is a brick.

James just threw a packet of peanuts at a cd which was hanging from a tree. He did it six hundred times. At the end he was very tired. We had to tie his dog to another tree because it kept trying to run off with the peanuts.

Josie called her aunty in America yesterday. Everybody is well, though the colour has drained from the land. Nobody knows why and nobody's seen Noddy for a very long time.

Do you have names for you slippers, or do you just wear them? I'm tired of this, how about you? Fancy a cup of tea? That'd be marvellous, let's do it.

At half past five all the guns went off and Bill, Gary and Toshkin all died. Bang, bang. Just like that.

What do you think of that, Ned? asked Charles.

I think it's jolly rotten, I said, and he nodded.

Hear, hear. Jolly, bloody rotten. Aha ha.

frame of a bingo hall or what?

2011-04-19T11:41:00.003Z

I created a bingo hall from a peanut the other day. I used the skin and stretched it over a cast iron frame I found in a jumble sale the week before. The jumble sale was in a town called Wickham, in Surrey. I don't know what I was doing there...I woke up in a field, in my dressing gown. I had gone to bed in Berlin, where I had been with my wife and her third cousin to watch a football match between some blind ladies and a crisis-hit dogs brigade from the Napoleonic era. It was very magical, the feeling. I thought God had hit me and given me this thing in exchange, as an apology. I fell to my knees in the field and that was when I realised it was a field and not the hotel room in Berlin.

Mildred! I cried. That's my wife.

Mildred!

Of course there was no response. At that time she was sleeping peacefully in the bed in the hotel in Berlin. She's lovely when she's sleeping, got these lovely lips, just parted.

Damn, I thought. Better find out where I am and what's happened.

I found a farmer's house and asked if I could watch the news for half an hour. The farmer's wife agreed to let me in, though she was a bit suspicious. I think it was the dressing gown. The farmer had gone to Pittsburgh in the USA for a conference on wheat. I acted interested but really I just wanted a cup of tea and the news.

I saw nothing which would explain the situation but on the kitchen table there was a bill from the electricity board and that's how I know where I was.

Well, I said, thanks very much for your hospitality. I've got to be going now.

I closed my eyes and wished myself back in Berlin and when I opened them again I was in the farmer's kitchen, his wife looking at me, still suspicious. I laughed and tried again. Still nothing.

Is there a jumble sale around these parts today? I asked.

Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. It's in the village, at half past ten. I was about to go when you came in. Would you like a lift?

That would be very helpful, I said and scratched my arm.

So we went to the jumble sale. There were quite a few interesting items but by far the most interesting was the cast iron frame of a bingo hall. Just the thing if you've got a spare peanut. It cost me three pound. I borrowed the money from the farmer's wife. I must pay her back.

The jumble sale over, the magical pathways were clear in the area. I thanked the farmer's wife and shook hands with a dozen others. This time, when I opened my eyes, I was back in Berlin. You should have seen my wife's face when she saw the frame - she was amazed!

Cinnamon

2011-04-19T10:04:00.003Z

Crushed almonds are at work in my mind, bringing you hampers of happiness and the kind of prosperity that no one's ever thought of before. It's got a colour, and a wavy memory. I sink my nose into the palm of your hand and breathe. There it is! If you want to get through a black hole you've got to go to places you didn't think it would be. Like in an empty field, miles away from the farmer's usual round.

Black stuff for covering roofs. Or is it rooves?

2011-04-19T09:52:00.003Z

Try the ascender, I said.

The old man threw himself down the stairs. He was an intellectual, but he tried to kill himself. I felt sorry for his children. I think he died. The war was coming closer, and he probably would have been shot anyway, for not complying, but I still felt sorry for his son.

I made my way to the lobby, via some missed flights and the breaking of friendships, brotherhoods. The desk was very high and the girl and I could hardly see each other. Perhaps we were just children. It's possible, because later she was in a huff.

Rather than saying I feel sick I say green trees on old meadows crumple like decaying leaves under my feet. This is not a snowstorm, or a walk. This is terror over and over again. My mind's implied, but there's no one there to save me.

Shuffling along now, the remnants of the cast which were never used. What will I do with them?

I say help them build a little town and organise feasts five times a year.

It will be done. We'll need tarpaulin, or that black stuff you use to cover roofs.

I've got some up my trouser leg, hold on a minute. Here you go.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

ashamed of it, ashamed of it, ashamed of it

2011-04-15T08:58:00.004Z

Settings. Eleven nights, in the street lights with the mountains in the background. Everything's fine until you turn to me and stick a knife into my belly. You're eyes are on fire and blood pours from your mouth. I say you have ruined me and you don't say a word, you twist the knife. I feel no pain. I am strong. I take your wrist and squeeze and you realize that I am your King and you fall onto your knees and I withdraw the knife and cut your throat and you die.

That's it. Simple, eh? It's not art though - it's fear, and I'm ashamed of it.

I'M ASHAMED OF IT.

And then...

2011-04-12T15:30:00.002Z

And then, right, and then....and then - are you listening? And then, right, then ma arrim fell off.

It was AMAAZUN.

And then ah ate a muffin.

Nuffin.

Terry Nephilim dyed my hair green, last Wednesday when it was raining. My sister painted a pot at the same time, in a different house, in a different world, though it was raining too. It rained across all the planes last Wednesday - the first time that's happened in I don't know how many years. Do you know, Mildred?

NO I DON'T!

I love you, Klinkenbot

2011-04-12T15:26:00.002Z

Hello Hleb,

I say the best days are the wet afternoons spent among the ruins of British castles. It's got to be wet to get the smell right and the feeling of isolation.

I love you!

Klinkenbot.

A waterfall in the Amazon

2011-04-11T09:50:00.003Z

Well, that's my story. What about you, Larry?

My own is full of worry and self doubt. I'm bored of it and I fear that others will be too. That is the source of any pain in my life.

Gee, that sounds heavy. You wanna talk some more about it? (please say no, please say no)

No, it's okay. Thanks though.

(phew!) Hey, that's what friends are for, right Jim?

That's right Howard. (Never pull a stunt like that again)

Nobody went to church after that.

2011-04-11T08:09:00.003Z

Call this work, you freak? This isn't work, this is a breeze! You see the sail out on the Sound? That's George and his new girl, Dierdrie. She smokes a lot and he doesn't smoke at all. Fancy a swim? I've got these new goggles, they help you see the future. Look at my skin! I'm beautiful.

She was beautiful, but irritating too. I didn't go for a swim. I was designing a model railway and wondering about best places to plant bombs to wreck the lines and stop supplies to the government forces. I couldn't understand at the time why people would line up to protect such a corrupt state. I was so angry! A few months later, after I met Maria and Jolly Jim, I began to see what was happening. Together we removed the electronic mouths from our neighbour's houses and after that things changed rapidly. I had stained glass put in the windows on the stairwell for one, and nobody went to church anymore. Everyone had seemed to know each other, even in the cities, so that wherever you went it was like a little party. Quite excited, though I don't know about the town planners and the civil engineers - maybe they felt differently, maybe some of them were depressed or pessimistic. I've never met a pessimistic architect but they would probably wear glasses, don't you think?

This is not my travel blog.

2011-04-11T07:58:00.003Z

There is a wooden model of a spaceship parked in the moonlight, beside the dark forest. You've probably seen it and not registered. I built it with my real dad about thirty years ago. We painted the nosecone blue, and drew a number one on the side. It seats three and there is a smaller, one-seater next to it. The thing about space travel, for me, is the smell of pines and the sense of bedtime.

There aren't as many cars as you would think there would be around here. I'll go round the corner and think about coffee and cigarettes and suddenly there will be a car or two, but from up here it's as though we knew nothing about motors.

This isn't my travel blog.

I don't have a travel blog. I don't really travel anymore, ever since I lost all my senses. The only heroes are shouting out from deep inside now. "Hello! Hello up there! Can you hear me?!" Possible echoes which I'm worried I ignore. Grrr, I'm going to find out what my story is about today. Looking forward to that!

Statues of ducks in the forsaken park

2011-04-08T09:18:00.003Z

We heard the sirens from a long way off. They were screeching, even though it was a nice day and nobody else existed in the world.

"What are they doing now?" I asked myself.

"I don't know," I replied.

Well, in front of me at that moment, and slightly to the right, there was a stand of umbrellas that somebody had obviously left behind. I took one and opened it and immediately felt sad. I'd missed the train, I'd just got there when the doors were closing and it carried off the rest of humanity, including my family and friends.

The umbrella reminded me of their smiles. I took myself down to the ice-cream parlour and scooped an ice-cream into a bucket.

"I'll give this to the ducks," I thought. "That will make me feel better."

There were no ducks, only statues of them in the forsaken park.

I caught my breath

2011-04-04T16:05:00.002Z

A lunatic drove my car. It wasn't me, that time. A lunatic was driving and, when I called my friend and found out he was dead, there was something wrong with my glasses. While a woman called Diana was explaining the situation I was trying to concentrate on fixing the fiddly things and also feeling powerful waves of sadness wash up on rocky and forsaken shores in my soul, in my brown and angry heart.

a drift adrift

2011-03-30T14:10:00.000Z

A drift of snowgeese.

a drift of snowgoose.

adrift of snowgoose.

I'm sorry.

2011-03-30T13:38:00.003Z

The sum of my eighteenth is nil. I am a flexiboard, my mind's made up. Where are you going? What are you doing? I'm going to India, I'm going to start a company. What is the company going to do? Absolutely nothing...we're going to sell our souls and hope for the best, we're going to begin swimming lessons in the ninth night and then shit bang whoom, who knows? Could be a disaster. Could be, could be, but maybe not - you see we've got robes. Ah! Robes! Well, that changes everything. Do you have belief? Like never before. Our minds are waterfalls of belief, we really think we can achieve our objectives and climb the career ladder. In your robes? No! Of course we won't wear the ceremonial robes while we climb the career ladder...that wouldn't be fair to the men and women who built the ladder. When did they build it? In 1960, in Scunthorpe. There's a little metal stamp near the top. It tells me everything I need to know. It even tells me why you are so silly.

NEVER call me silly.

I'm sorry.

I am an only mole

2011-03-22T08:54:00.004Z

Life as a new unit in an office in New York is difficult. I don't drink orange juice, I don't eat hot dogs, I don't watch videos and I don't know how to scream. These are the basics.

When I was very young my father took me to a lighthouse on the eastern ocean. He bade me look at it and design a flag which could be flown from the top. I drew a picture of a phoenix rising against a blood red background. My father asked me what it represented and I said "nothing, dad, it's just an image I like". He submitted it as an entry in a local competition but it didn't win. The winner was a flag with a picture of a whale diving against a navy blue background. The flag was flown above the lighthouse for three years and then my father burned the lighthouse down and took the flag and shoved it up the......

My great uncle Bill was a shoe salesman.

The wind has changed, that's for sure. It was warm the other day, and southerly. Not it's got a chill and it's coming from the East, from Australia, from Leningrad, from Tobermory, from Wisconsin. There could well be elections about the fate of the wind. There are people in my dormitory who think it should be destroyed and there are others who say that, without the wind, none of us would be here now. I don't know what to believe; I've never studied air movements and I can't really be bothered now. I just want to dig about in this library and see if something useful turns up. Do you think there are still books down here that people would want to read? We're pretty deep, man, and I think the earthquakes which buried this lot came before mankind did. So who wrote the books? Well, I don't know, do I? How could I? I'm just a mole, man. I'm just a mole and I'm dying of fucking cancer.

Unhappy cows

2011-03-15T08:38:00.002Z

A new item. A page.

What is it you want from me? I was suppered, showered, brushered of teethered and a-ready for bed. I had almost everything in blue, including my memories, and I had a candle on in a lonely corner.

You'll be having this, said the old woman. She was bending over a pile of twigs, twisting them together to make tight bunches, ready for fires and torches.

What will I be having? I asked her.

This! And she swung up suddenly with a copper pan and bashed me over the head. I lost conciousness and came to perhaps hours later on a bed of cushions.

The room was empty, the fire on. I took three coals from the fire pit and laid them beneath the curtains and tapestries. The flames licked up quickly and soon the whole hovel was an inferno. The door burst open and the old woman stood there with a hose. She doused the fire and then closed the door. I was left alone. There was a hole in the ceiling. Then there was no hole; a giant saucepan lid was placed on top of the house and a deep voice said 'you shouldn't have done that. Now we have to make you suffer.'

I fell asleep.

I woke up and there were many cows in the room, and they didn't sound happy.

Barr-ren wastelands!

2011-03-05T08:47:00.002Z

What a chant at the match between Barren Wastelands and The Outer Universe last night.

Barr-ren wastelands! Barr-ren wastelands! Barrrr-ren wastelands!

Campeoh-nes, campeohh-nes! ole, ole, ole!

Barren wastelands bumm-bumm-bumm, Barren wastelands bumm-bumm-bumm.

Crazy game.

There are bridges.

2011-03-02T09:33:00.003Z

There are bridges. I built many of them years ago, but they still stand. Sometimes strangers find them and walk across. None of them expect to find me here. I'm almost part of the trees now; so fucking green and overgrown - it's a waste of time.

I've heard of another guy who sits there all day, all happy. He loves the visitors. Got his island manicured, or did it himself.

Fair play.

I suppose I could put some energy into my garden, maybe make those bridges more inviting to good people.

Hey. I think that once you start it all pays off. I should get up, start something. Need a plan first though - need a clear idea of destination, and maybe that's what's been making me so damn tired... It's been going on a while now - I think it's time to change my idea of what a clear idea is - not some perfect picture - more a general feeling of learning and togetherness, blown open by gusts of other people's emotion, and my own...torn up by beauty and set spraying in billions of pieces through this universe, over and over again.

My mission is to create a green and hilly space for people in less fortunate circumstances to enjoy.

Jiggly wee alien

2011-02-17T11:42:00.004Z

I saw this green, jerking alien in the stairwell this morning. It looked like it was having a fit but then I realised that the movements were a kind of dance and that it was communicating with the mothership, which lay anchored just off Sag Harbour. I was in Beijing and the alien was in Beijing and we were both in the stairwell and it was jerking and I was making discoveries about communication. We both realised at the same moment that our worlds were very different but that beauty was universal and all species could get along incredibly in learning. His eyes, if that is indeed what they were, widened at the moment of realisation.

"It would be nice to stay and talk," I said, "but I've got to get to the bank. The morning reports have to be done by eight-thirty sharp and Billy-Joe-Kid is off with a tummy upset he picked up last week on a trip to Cambodia, so I've absolutely got to be there - to do the reports, you see?"

I didn't know if he would understand. He, or maybe she, stood there for a moment just looking at me. Then he opened his fish-like mouth and these sounds came out:

"Don't worry about it - I'd do the same myself. It's the same on our planet: if the boss doesn't get the reports he gets mad, even if the reports are the same every day!"

"Tell me about it. Anyway, if there's anything you need you can ask my girlfriend; she'll be around till noon. We're on the third floor, right flat."

"Thanks, dude,"said the alien. "That's totally kind of you. I hope the reports go well."

"No worries, man, and I hope your investigation of our planet turns up some nice conclusions!"

I left him there and was about to slip out the front door when I felt a slimy touch on my forearm.

"Wait, human!"

"What is it?"

"Where's Cambodia?" he asked me with a quiver in his voice.

"Ah, of course. Do you know Clitheroe?" I said.

"In Lancashire? Yes, I think we've got a base just to the north of it," he said.

"Well, if you go east for about 7000 kilometres and then south for 4000, you'll be in Cambodia."

The alien paused for a moment, then jigged on his right foot, then stood still again.

"So between Thailand and Vietnam?" he asked.

"I think so, but I'm not sure. There's a world map in the flat - ask my girlfriend to show you. She lived in Cambodia for fifty years," I said.

"Well, that's interesting now, isn't it just? Anyway, sorry for keeping you. Run along, and may you always live in peace!"

"And you!" I cried, and I ran to catch the bus.

I'm sorry for lying, okay?!

2011-02-17T11:32:00.004Z

This is the first rational banana I've ever eaten. It's tasty; got a hint of raspberry about it. The conversation we had before the meal was interesting too. It told me its views on what's happening across North Africa at the moment. It had a very balanced opinion, and expressed itself eloquently and with sincerity. I said, "Banana, I thank you for your words, and I hate to have to eat you now, but I am hungry and it must be done."

The fruit accepted its fate and perished silently, for which I shall be forever grateful.

That whole story was a lie. It was an apple I ate and we didn't talk beforehand. I'm sorry for telling fibs.

Are ye spooked, freak?

2011-02-17T11:17:00.003Z

John was up in Seattle the other day, minding his own business, when this woman stopped him and asked him for some change. She was blondish, but greasy, short and thin. She had that worn-out look of a junkie in their thirties. John looked her in the eye and said that he didn't have any change, which was a lie. She said "thanks anyhow" and walked on. John saw her stopping some other fellow and that guy dipped into his pocket and gave her some coins.

Shortly after that John went into a Staples store on 15th Avenue West and bought a blue ballpoint pen. He sent me a picture of the pen later on. I was quite impressed, I must say.

God, I think it's time for some bread, don't you? Anyone else feeling kinda spooked today?

Love triumphs, yet again.

2011-02-17T11:04:00.002Z

The dropped walls of a million peacetime pigs went on sale yesterday at a famous Scunthorpe auctioneers. The walls fetched three times the expected price and, when the business had been completed, everyone went to the pub for a buffet lunch.

There were sandwiches at the lunch. Some of the sandwiches contained tuna which had been fished in the middle east, near Bahrain. The Bahrainian people were so outraged that their tuna should be eaten by people who had the audacity to buy and sell dropped walls of peacetime pigs that they began a night of protests.

I fell off my horse yesterday at 3:30 and hit my ankle on a stone which was protruding from the ground. I examined the stone and found that it had been laid down as shallow sea sediment in the cretaceous period, shortly after 1. The markings on the stone led me to believe that an extraterrestrial vehicle had touched down around that time and sent forth a robotic rover to take air and soil samples. I prayed that this would bring good things to the people and animals of our planet.

Love seems to triumph daily, which is nice.

When I'm dead I miss you

2011-02-14T09:49:00.002Z

Guns at dawn. Pistols in the actuality. I drew mine and shot blind, into the air. No pellet hit. My opponent shot too; took aim and shot me through. Now I am dead.

I miss you.

I liked the sandwich

2011-02-14T09:46:00.002Z

A sandwich made of toasted baguette, some ham, camembert and mustard. It's crunchy and creamy. It's cool and it's warm. It's mild and yet spicy. A couple of cranberries would be good.

I liked the sandwich.

Last night I killed the Goblin King.

2011-02-10T12:59:00.004Z

I killed the Goblin King last night. He arrived with his alien troops in a Roman tower of torture and war. There were mechanisms at the base which could rip you up. I'd taken the light from one and discovered how it worked.

Anyway, everyone was a wee bit scared because they thought the Goblin King was invincible. But I had a sword with me which I somehow knew could do the job.

The tower stopped by the front door and out hopped the King. He started taunting us and we could see his army all huddled up in the tower behind him, confident like. I stepped forward and started hacking at him with the sword. The blade just bounced off him. He laughed a bit and walked about, inspecting the place while I took swings at his neck and torso.

It wasn't looking good; on a word his army would attack and we would be chopped to pieces. Suddenly I had an idea. I reached out and snatched a bottle of milk from his belt - milk which I knew he had expressed himself earlier. Talk about recycling. I snatched the milk and laid it on the floor. He stopped laughing then, and I raised the sword high and brought it down on that glass bottle. It split in two and the milk came onto the blade. Immediately I swung at him and this time I did some damage. A strike to the ribs and he was so surprised! He doubled over and I struck again, this time splitting his head almost in two, straight across the skull. He managed to say "All is done", and then he died.

The alien army didn't know what to do, so they ran, or flew; I can't remember. The joy was high and I finished there.

Earlier I had been protecting a little boy who had almost been taken hostage by a bully of immense strength. He punched down a door in the local pub to get to me - he was mad because I'd foiled his plan. That bully was a poison to man, as all bullies are.

The big news, though, is that last night I killed the Goblin King.

Love out, man!

2011-01-27T15:18:00.003Z

Hello. It will come soon, that good thing. You can look forward to it. Green fields, blue skies; spring days, leading into summer. That's my thing. It's kind of farm-like. And it's coming. That's such a great thing to know - I feel fantastic! I feel like I'm on a wonder holiday by an adventure lagoon and I've just discovered that this can be forever if I want, with letters and swimming and clambering about on rocks and lots of learning! It's so great I don't know what to do!

Help! Help!

What is it?

I'm happy! What should I do?

Enjoy it! Go swimming in the firelight, prepare a feast and get your dancing sandals on!

That's great advice, thank you.

Don't mention it! Love out, man.

Yeah! Love out, whatever that means.

It means I agree with you, everything's fantastic. It means salute to reality, man.

Oh! Right then. Love out.

Yeah!

Don't lose it, man

2011-01-20T10:19:00.004Z

I was trying to be honest with myself the other day but it didn't work. I ...I... I didn't do anything. I became sad and angry. I didn't know if I was too full of interesting ideas, or if I was utterly devoid of them. I knew that there was no way of rationalising the feelings I was having so I just lay down for a while and tried to meditate. I opened my mind and my heart to any passing spirits, I advertised to the world that my mind was for the taking. Nothing happened though.

Hey! What are you doing over there?

Is it sticky?

Cool! Here, try this. No, this way. That's it! Ha ha! It looks like a head!

I don't understand anything. I just want to be happy, with summery days and a feeling of I know what I'm doing, or I'm doing what I want to be, or I'm saying something worth saying, do you know what I mean? We all do, don't we?

Don't lose it, man.

Philip and the fire!

2011-01-20T10:14:00.002Z

There was a boy called Philip and he lived with his aunt and uncle in Bristol. He liked making models of things and one day he made a model of a model. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice the fire which had started in the socket behind the telly. He inhaled the fumes and asphyxiated. The house was damaged but they managed to repair it and the insurance paid.

I don't know if she's still alive.

2011-01-20T10:09:00.003Z

I had a friend called Salamanca and she lived in a very small cottage on the side of a hill above the sea. One day she cut her foot on a sharp stone and the wound became infected. It ended up that she had to have her leg amputated below the knee and she couldn't live in the house anymore. Unfortunately the housing market was not strong at that time so she didn't get much for the house and that meant she couldn't afford a very nice place in the town.

She became so depressed that she cried for three hours a day and she didn't eat much. She complained a lot and so I stopped visiting her. I don't know if she is still alive.

Dave went for a jog!

2011-01-20T10:04:00.003Z

I knew a guy called Dave and he was really upset one day because he couldn't understand why he was alive and he thought it was strange to have a physical world sitting in infinity and eternity. He threw his heart open and asked the general universe for an answer, asked his mind to help and asked himself to feel contented and happy.

But none of that happened.

So Dave surfed the internet for a few hours and then he went for a jog. On the way home he bought toilet rolls and bread and pasta.

It's not looking good

2011-01-18T15:18:00.003Z

Strange looking man stopped by the other day and gave me a pea-shooter. I took it to the park and shot some peas, then I got bored. I haven't seen it since, I can't remember where I put it. I asked the bank to sponsor me again and they said no, again. I went down to the beach and collected shells for what must have been an hour. There were some pretty ones by the time I finished and I took them back to the hotel and cleaned them up and made a sculpture. It was of you and I gifted it to the hotel. I said 'Here you go, I've made you this.' and the woman at the reception, or rather the girl, didn't have any charisma and I felt really flat. I had another five days and it was raining. I went back up to my room but that was in Nairn.

Spaghetti sponge-cake. That's what we're having for Christmas dinner next year. I mean, I hope you like it. Curiosity killed the cat, stabbed it through the heart, choked its brains, ate its mind, farted like a fucking fog-horn.

I got really mad when I couldn't hear you anymore, I went nuts then and started shaking everything. Bang! I smashed the little table that was under the window, the tall window, the beds were smelling dirty and there wasn't much space otherwise. I asked the Lord if there would be anything else and he said no, that was it. I threw a tantrum.

Time to go. Three hours of solid poop on my horizon, it's not looking good. I'm bored of it, do you know what I mean? Of course you do.

There are no dogs in team

2011-01-18T10:45:00.003Z

Why do people help each other?

For the hell of it. I don't know why I'm not a swimming pool.

I would have been so much better as a swimming pool. I eat dog on Tuesdays. Today's Tuesday. I've got to find a dog cafe, and that's difficult here. Why are culture's so different? I would have been better as a swimming pool, or an architect in Greece, or Yemen. I would have been better as an architect with bricks and a simple contract. Build a nice wee city with shops and swimming pools. I would have been good.

Ah! Hey, did you ever not know? Did you ever swim, like, fifty metres? Hey, did you ever wonder why you never? Hey, did you ever, never? When?

Hey, hey, hey. What's going on here? Are you nervous? Yes, I am. I'm always a bit nervous. I don't know why, maybe it's the marble floors.

Can't you just chill out?

I'd love to, believe me. It's just not possible at the moment. Eh, I'm not a historian but shouldn't there be, like, a door there or something?

I can't stand your accent.

I don't like yours much.

What do people say to each other?

2011-01-14T10:57:00.002Z

Hello.

Hi.

How are you?

I'm fine, thanks. How are you?

I'm very happy. I thought I was alone in the world, but now I've met you. What's your name?

Complicity.

That's an interesting name, Complicity. Where have you come from?

Over there.

Wow. That's amazing. I've been over there like, a dozen times, and I've never seen you.

Would you like a drink?

Yes please.

What would you like?

Banana juice.

I'm afraid I haven't got banana juice. Would you like an apple juice instead?

No.

Some water then?

Yes please.

Here you are. So, how long have you been here?

Three years.

Me too! Are you doing anything special?

No.

Hmm. I'm raising a nice little farm here. I've got carrots and turnips and sweet potato. Would you like to try some soup?

No thanks.

Hey! Where were you before you came from over there?

New York.

Where's that?

America.

Wow, never heard of it. Never heard of anything. Never met anyone. Never existed. Help, help, help!

No.

Septimus Grant had to do his homework

2011-01-12T16:34:00.001Z

Septimus Grant. He had a big day but he was lazy. He had to feed the geese, he had to castrate the goats, he had to milk the cow, he had to fashion a stool out of wood, he had to do his homework.

A wind moving through me

2010-12-21T09:09:00.001Z

Am I falling away from what's important? Mornings outside teepees, cooking pots and bare feet in long grass.

Have I become trapped in this?

The realisation is like a wind moving through me.

Atoms looked at

2010-12-20T08:36:00.003Z

At night I saw among leaves swept up, tiny stories nestled like stars, full of windows and delights. I met a young princess and she told me that they were waiting for the mid-winter and then they would burn themselves as a token of their devotion to the unending world. I said I would like to ride a horse across a meadow and she clicked her fingers and nothing happened. We both smiled and she blushed a little. Her eyes were amazing - clear and dark and lovely. Her smile made the world complete. She vanished shortly afterwards and I heard a rustling amongst the leaves. It was frosty and I continued home. Tea that night: sausages and Said Pudding. General feeling: muted. TV watched: none. Apples thought about: eighteen thousand. Atoms looked at: lost count.

If you don't want it...

2010-12-20T08:25:00.004Z

The central stage is occupied. Is this a big piece - can you use one of the others? There's some wood and other props in the cupboard at the end of the hall and Jenny can fix you up with costumes. Sorry, man, but this bit's been booked for months and months and it has to show. It won't take long, couple of weeks maybe. Yeah, I know, I know...if I could do anything about it I would. Look, don't get like that with me - I'm trying to do the best I can, okay? If you don't want it you can fuck off.

I love you through it all

2010-12-20T08:06:00.004Z

The central pig is free. Marta let it out yesterday.

We've used a tree to sweep the chimney for three years and now they want to change and use a brush. I don't get it. Perhaps they have been hoodwinked by salesmen coming out of Georgia (there seem to be a lot of those guys at the moment, in old fashioned cars).

The problem with a brush is where to store it. When we used the tree we could replant it in the back yard and even harvest the fruit twice a week. It was a general fruit tree. They've cut the tree down and turned it into shavings which they want to use to make amulets which they will sell at the Glasgow fair next millenium. Now they'll use this brush. It's made of carbon fibre and has wolfs hair bristles bristling down my spine.

Last week we had a debate in the library council as to what would be better; claws or suckers. Mrs Thompson was mad about claws - so much so that we had to restrain her and lock her in the cleaning cupboard for ten minutes. It's funny how people can suddenly get passionate about a topic that you just brought up for interest. She apologised later but punched Mr Marsh on the way out.

Mr Marsh fell with the force of the punch and landed awkwardly and broke his neck. Now he is dead and Mrs Thompson is in jail and her kids have disowned her.

You've got to laugh.

So I'm in a minority of one regarding this tree brush situation. I'm thinking about leaving. It's no fun when they start doing things this way. It's what happened in Atlanta, and I don't want to go through the whole thing again. Can you change these circles into different types of spirals? I don't think so. I've been thinking about Italy for a while now anyway and I think I'll go by train.

Can you take a dog on a train? I might get a dog.

We haven't had spaghetti for ages and ages. I think it goes well with red cars. Crikey! Listen to me - Italy it has to be.

Drifting slowly eastwards through a blue and ancient cosmos, our lives are touching onto each other and the skin of your existence makes me feel like an electric eel, all slippery and dangerous. I love you through it all.

Hasta pronto

2010-12-17T12:01:00.002Z

I rise. I'm arisen. He said it like that.

I said "do you like pancakes?" and he said yes, so I gave him a pancake.

We live near the beach. It's a pebbly one, with smooth greys and I like it a lot. A lot, a lot, a lot!

Hasta luego.

Have you got a problem with that?

2010-12-13T19:41:00.003Z

I was in a tavern in the czech republic, pleased with my new sword. I had a meaty broth and a jug of dark ale. It was snowing outside and I had a horse.

I liked it there. I really liked it.

Have you got a problem with that?

Clatchme!

2010-12-01T13:10:00.004Z

Clatchme! Clatchme! he cried.

Clatchme? What does clatchme mean?

Clatchmeeee!

He hit the floor, almost killed me.

That was close, I said.

Why not you clatchme?

Oh! I see! You meant catch me. I'm sorry, I couldn't understand you.

Yes. It is big ploblem. I must to len betta Linglish.

English.

Solly. Yes, English. I must to len betta.

I must learn better.

No, no! You velly good, velly gooood! You teach me.

Do they have an ice cream stand?

2010-11-22T10:57:00.004Z

Hello.

I drip through sand every day, until all that's left of me on this side is my clothes. The rest has melted and dripped through sand. Where has it gone? Through sand.

What is through sand, brother?

A dark monastery, where fires burn in great mandalas and you can slowly meditate yourself to freedom, if you ignore what's going on below.

What's that?

Tortures. There are hundreds of thousands of dungeons, peopled by things which love to inflict pain. They capture passing riders and keep them there for eternity, torturing them.

Why do you want to go there?

The mandalas are perfect. Firey circles on top of towering obsidian pillars, rising from depths which begin or end only in someone's imagination - perhaps a God's, perhaps the nightmare of a child from another world.

Do they have an ice cream stand?

No.

Then I'm not going.

I have no feelings

2010-11-22T10:52:00.002Z

Ha ha, I create myself. Ha ha, I use banana skins and kitchen rolls and yoghurt cartons and lengths of string. Ha ha, I use gauze and scissors and water and sand. Ha ha, I use flour. Ha ha, I fry myself and bake myself and use techniques from old laboratories where the wooden benches have felt a thousand thousand loves.

Ha ha ha, I create myself. Over and over again, I create myself, then lie down in wet grass near the sea. I have no feelings. I have no feelings. I have no feelings anymore.

I didn't know what to do so I stopped

2010-11-17T09:10:00.003Z

If you listen, like an earthwhale, you will hear my thoughts as they leave my heart. They are shouting goodbye to their friends. They hope to meet everyone again someday, in another mind maybe, or by a fire.

I ripped a flag last night. I don't know why I did that. I found it on the edge of a field, at least a mile from any house. It looked as though it had been lying there for a few years. It was blue and white, two vertical stripes as wide as each other. I ripped a little bit on the edge of the white and then I ripped a little bit on the edge of the blue.

I dropped the flag and stamped on it. I stamped it back into the ground. I wondered who had left it there.

Later, when I tried to drown myself, a girl saved me. She reached me at the bottom of a clear and icy lake. As we rose I awoke and she fell unconscious. I wanted to swim back to the shore with her but the surface salted over and our dry skin had died and turned to snake. Whenever I pushed her body across the surface large chunks of flesh would fall away, revealing bone. On my body and hers. The salt was sore in the wounds.

I didn't know what to do so I stopped.

Specific occasions.

2010-11-11T12:01:00.001Z

Ha ha ha! I met a man who could trace his family all the way back to the first mammals around the time of the dinosaurs. I paid him no attention and bought instead a hamburger from the hamburger man who was standing on the corner of the street, selling hamburgers.

I've had better hamburgers, but I can't remember a specific occasion.

Shuddup

2010-11-11T12:00:00.003Z

That would be interesting. To monitor your mood and monitor the moon's progress at the same time. Maybe you'd find an explanation for this bad mood of yours..

SHUT UP, OKAY??!!

Bang! I've never run so fast.

2010-11-09T15:40:00.002Z

There are no new posts.

I have searched from Tisampa in the north to Sunderland in the south. I covered a strip five miles wide. There are no new posts.

What does this mean? I don't know what it means yet, but I think we should be careful with our supplies. If anyone can collect sticks...that would be helpful. And dry leaves of the apricot tree.

Where's Billy?

Billy is building a swing in the Comb.

Who let him go?

I did.

Well you better go and get him. I want us all to perform the Time Warp dance at triple speed around a cheesecake before five o'clock.

But why? Hey! Is that a triceratops?

It can't be; they've been extinct for, like, millions of years.

Oh yeah, I forgot. It's a Golf TDI. I can see that now. John is driving it - let's wave!

Hi John! Hi! Look over here!

Hey kids, what you doing?

Beginning a new revolution in yellow. Can you give us some cash?

No.

Why?

I don't feel that you have earned it. Anyway, what's the point of having money?

We don't know.

Interesting. Well, take care now, and remember to stay off the road.

Okay, bye.

Bye.

I didn't know the wind but then it came and it gave us earache. I remember great pain and anger at the pain.

There's Billy.

What's that you've got?

Worms.

What for?

Fishing.

That's a coincidence because it's fish and chips tonight, with peas.

Bang! I've never run so fast.

My monkey called Design

2010-11-08T12:37:00.002Z

My wolves are not for asking, nor is the crazed child who eventually became the wife of someone.

My dreams are full of hostility and wild takeovers, the mood was intense.

Our frontiers at that time were grassy hillocks, burned dry by high sun in unforgiving afternoons. I had a cousin who visited and he died in the fields because he had worn only suncream and not the protective suit we had supplied him with.

I tried to gather my thoughts but my mind just turned to food. Egg and chips, to be precise.

Why did it do that? Well, I don't know to be sure, but something tells me that tomorrow's excursion will bring a lot of answers.

I am happy, I suppose. The only thing that eats me is the pain of friends - a pain I cannot cure.

These pages go on forever, and I never feel as though I've moved anywhere. It would help if I knew what I was looking for.

I suppose I'm lost.

Hey, didn't you say you could develop that story in a new pattern?

Not a night in tartan?

No, it was more like a circuit board; a long, neon strip of blues and greys and ancient hope that nobody knows what to do with.

These are worn out phrases, said my monkey. My monkey design. My monkey called Design.

These people

2010-11-01T19:44:00.003Z

I am teaching in that mountainous wilderness. The tribe is alien, or rather I am. And yet they want to learn my language. We sit in a circle on the plateau and they listen as I talk. Then they try things out together. They are funny with it. I am lucky because they want to learn and not eat me. Their language is impossible for me. That’s why they are learning mine. They are all changing so they can accommodate me. What a place! What a people! I am living with them in their tent. The whole community share a tent. The sky is darkening, great clouds break and the god speaks down to us. She says something in their language and they look up to the break and laugh. Then I hear her talking in my language. Hers is the voice of a child. She tells me I am welcome and that she can understand my pain at missing my own people, but she will always be there for me and hopes I will enjoy the wonders of this world. I thank her and look towards my ruined spaceship. I say I hope it doesn’t offend to have this wreckage blotting the landscape. The god says she thought it was rather cool, that it added something. She said that there was excitement to be had in the battles with the people of the other god, and that if I got killed I would return to my people in the heaven which covered all worlds. She said this life was just a passing through. After the death you can choose to participate in any life, or time of life, you wanted. She said it was amazing, just great, everyone was happy. She said she knew the god of my world and thought he was a really nice guy and admired his patience but she felt sorry for him because the folks he had created had gone so bad and she knew the pain that caused him. She said she was sure he would get it right in the end. She said that he and she were actually One.

2010-10-31T07:32:00.003Z

My new memory, created yesterday: