A Much Earlier Weekly Diary



A strange day that got stranger. I spent time among the rings and diagonal lines that mark the ground at the foot of an extinct volcano. The volcano lit a pipe and mused about it’s childhood. I studied my footprints and spoke to Pam about the tiny cat that cannot hear the footsteps that follow it.



I was alone when I woke and had to stir the boiling cauldron on my own. I cast a spell and flew to the shops. I stood tall like an electricity pylon among raucous baby gulls. They pulled at scraps and gave their lives good exam results. I gave myself lines.



We went out to lunch at a premature noon, the meal table was attached to a tortoise’s back – I nearly slid off several times while trying to make a clown face out of my napkin. I was accidentally given the last drink of a Portuguese explorer which shocked the entire congregation. The evening was spent going round the world – I frowned for half of the way and smiled for the rest.



After a great deal of thought I became the captain of a pirate ship; I wore medusa missiles instead of hair and gave each gun a pet name. Fido and I had to parade with skeletons before retiring to an oceanic opera box. Back on the beach in the afternoon, I weeded while burying my treasure.



I dreamt a very interesting dream and then woke up feeling sick. Of the day itself, part of it was spent with a strange being, probably a fairy, sitting tightly on my head. I struggled between fallen masonry as wraith like figures stepped in and out of the light. For the night I was tied to a shark’s back.



At the beginning of the day, rows of people walked by holding recently amputated dog’s tails. I helped as many of these misunderstood coat hangers as I could. At the end of my tasks I pinned a note on a donkey which read, “Help!, I have been captured by diaphanous sea cows!”.



I went to the village of my childhood and spent an hour sitting under the table counting strands of hair that heroes had climbed up. Back to Manic Town by noon, where spirits climbed down bed sheets from the fires in the sky. I tied two sheets together and made the sign of infinity.



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).
This entry was posted in Diary, Poetry, prose, Uncategorized, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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