Weekly Diary

I was hoping to lay like a piece of rope in the garden but June wanted to stretch me out between the doorstep and the town.  I finally got home with knots in my hair where snake eyes used to be.  I had just lassoed a Roman copy of an ancient Greek sculpture when she returned like Nike and wanted to catch a jet plane to a local restaurant.  We ate out meal below an engine pod as the dancers jumped like blue cows.  I came home counting werewolves in cardboard boxes and shuffled the keys in my pocket as a precaution before we reentered the house.

June went back to work while I hung on to a giant barley sugar twist watching the remnants of my bath water disappear down a slit in the maverick monster’s side.  Using an old fashioned telephone as ear muffs I strode out alongside a wolf pack as it searched for well documented anomalies in the Earth’s magnetic field.  I kept the paper crumpled as June resurfaced from the depths trapped inside a table top fridge.  I gingerly opened the door and put in a large wedge of cheese – as well as the mummified remains of an ancient Assyrian blue tit god.

I got up in the middle of the night to have a bath; herbivorous dinosaurs were grazing just outside the arrow slit window.  After pushing a snake tongue down the overflow I wrote “All my best friends are Neanderthals” in the condensation on my designer sunglasses.  When the day finally woke, June had already metamorphosed into a scots pine and I had taken several hundred steps down the side of a mountain.  I spent a happy morning recording extinct pterosaur song and then climbed up the mountain again –  meeting at the top my best friend Neanderthal.

June and I skirted the craters on the moon – she was intent on keeping the remains of last night’s dinner in the confines of her top pocket and I wrestled in my trousers for a comb.  I walked part of the way with a trombone wrapped around my head and came back followed by the skeletonised remains of a well known chamber orchestra.  Once back in the wardrobe I call home I grabbed the dog and we went out to look for signs that a steam train went through the hole in the hedge last night.  The first person I met had a cuckoo clock for a head.

I had to get up early, removing the ostrich who had pushed its head under the pillow, I dropped the dog out of the escape hatch and absailed down to a pavement in the front line at the battle of El Alamein.  I fought myself into the dirty green countryside where pockets of snow were still visible – I climbed Everest on one of these before talking about King Kong with the Great Ape God – I then returned home tucked in the train of a woman whose hat touched the roof like a birthday cake baked in the shape of the Tower of Babel.  I thought to myself in a multitude of languages.

June and I followed a porcupine up the road; each spine had a small umbrella attached.  I watched them wobble as it walked while the rain ran down my neck like the life saving serum in a sci-fi adventure – one drop stops the transformation into a beast that will live forever.  As the sky unzipped to reveal a navel I ran at high speed and then jumped over the roof of a modestly furnished terraced house.  I later took the wolf dog for a walk along a pirate plank; we each returned with a large boulder on our heads.  I danced with a grandfather clock as June came in late.

June went out with a Roman matron (I knew this because the stuffed cockatoo on her shoulder wore a band of laurel leaves).  The dog and I watched passively as a hookah pile several hundred metres long rose and then abruptly descended again.  I looked down and picked up several partially decomposed sheets of paper – each with a design for a cubist corn dolly on it.  I then made a smiling face out of building bricks and looked down again.  The toy salesman pushed an arm through a cloud and we shook hands like Polynesian dancers wearing grass skirts.


About Gerald Shepherd

Gerald Shepherd is a painter, graphic artist, sculptor, digital/multimedia artist, photographer, writer, curator and arts administrator. He has also been involved with science art, performance art, conceptual art, installations and environments (as well as peripheral creative pursuits such as garden design).
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