There was a slow improvement in my health today. I haven’t been in my studio hardly at all this week. When I got near the door I could hear strange laughter and the crackle of paint brushes burning on the heart shaped palette.
I pottered around on the edge of doing things all day. Like the edge of a volcano, I could look down and see the vast energy below. I drew a red eye on my forehead and drunk from cupped hands. The antihistamine tablets appear to be working.
As the weather was nice I decided to spend the day in the garden, standing still in the pose of a German Expressionist and transferring messages from my old self to the new. I saw Mansfield Park again.
I am beginning to feel better and returned to my studio as a bedouin arab. I didn’t produce a huge amount of work as a sand storm blew fiercely and I narrowly missed marrying a camel. However, I did manage to dress a number of paintings in the latest fashion – including the essential accessories.
I felt more like my normal self today. I contemplated life in a land of cognizant potatoes and I set sail for the land of fruit flavoured milk shakes in an anthropomorphic boat. The boat is kept tethered to the Ancient Briton chimney protruding from the roof.
I felt even more content as I sat on the huge disc of a visiting craft. My three eyes followed a line, drawn with flowers, from my discarded hat to the round tower on the horizon. Light left the tower millions of years ago. The hat had three feathers in the brim.
The morning was laid out like a carpet as I pushed all the new scenery down the hill – having bought it with my old credit card. Dressed as an Inca warrior, I opened the wardrobe (which I want to replace with one shaped like a Tyrannosaurus Rex) and found a number of cardboard cut-out personas – one had got a bit bent round the edges.