Weekly Diary

20/07/2014

I was expecting rain as I folded up one garden and then laid out another picnic like on the Precambrian rocks. After this June and I stayed indoors to let our ears grow long. June spoke to me with a smile pencilled on the notepad paper of her face and I replied by crumpling up a cushion cover to represent the difficult terrain of a famous Boer War battle. Outside a man neither of us knew was talking to himself as he tried to keep his secret safe. I swallowed a painting as June went to town and was still chewing over its meaning when she returned with our lunch reduced to a full stop on a sheet of writing paper. As I wanted a pudding I searched for a semicolon but found only the secret of the universe curled up like an adder under a sheet of corrugated iron beside a disused railway line.

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21/07/2014

I got out of the capsized bed to count the sharks circling a glass of water on the mantelpiece – it was precariously placed and I feared for our collective equanimity. I had a conversation with an invisible friend as animals ate animals: she was bewildered like time and space and I wondered if anything really exists or whether we are actually the playthings of a malicious child or the idle dreams of a bored commuter waiting for a delayed train. I then wondered if consciousness was actually a state of matter like mass and energy, in which case it won’t be long before someone makes a bomb from my thoughts and drops it on a hapless city! June appeared to be thinking along similar lines as she entered the room with a glass of frog spawn which were talking among themselves.

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22/07/2014

June and I spent the night in the hayloft fifteen stories above the house accompanied by a mechanical version of Poppy and a cat that had existed previously as a mathematical theorem (the man with a snow leopard for a hat was smoking a skyscraper instead of a pipe – he later knocked it out on the bare arm of his chair). We both got up as sentries looking the wrong way when the enemy approaches; I put on a hat of live snakes and June pulled a pair of snooker cues and a glass eye out of a pile of worn clothes by the window. I thought the window was just about to whisper something to her but instead the door shouted at the top of its voice to me. Neither of us could make out what it said so I went down the road and asked a complete stranger.

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23/07/2014

June stood on a birthday cliff face that had suddenly appeared on the step instead of the postman to watch me slowly move into the crippled distance studiously following the laws of perspective that we had just invented between us. I shopped like a creature burrowing into very soft earth and then hitting a stone but eventually came home with all the shopping imprinted on my forehead and my hands feathered like a dinosaur holding a greetings card. I found June halfway up a ladder which was sunk halfway into a hole and we greeted in a state of equilibrium – I thought the wall hanging made from twisted aeroplane exhausts was symbolic and then saw a small serpent dressed in a suit of armour out of the corner of my eye. It appeared to be standing in the middle of someone else’s lawn.

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24/07/2014

I shot out of a very large calibre gun (it later told me it was like giving birth) and headed up the road like a fly on a television screen – I did my best to cover the face of whoever was talking but eventually gave up when the chorus started singing. I boarded the woodlice bus (as everyone knows the only land dwelling crustacean in the United Kingdom) and took a partially eaten leaf route to the caterpillar cottage where the butterfly king showed me a finger that pointed at the policeman when he stepped out of line. I went out into the garden alone and immediately found a dragon’s nest with the parachute shaped eggs pointing straight up. I later found the aeroplane they had come from: like all the imaginary objects in my head it was flying backwards.

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25/07/2014

I was a giraffe god silhouetted by a too tactile searchlight as the air raid warden’s truck washed up the road like a high tide. The early starters (who invariably wake me up) had already swished up the same road as new brides for the Bluebeard factories when the bomber formation laboured overhead – it looked very much like the ground plan of a medieval cathedral. Despite the loud silence outside June got up before me and dressed in the very well a spindle had been purposively thrown down (I wouldn’t go down to retrieve it as I don’t like holes in the ground). I dressed as an elephant god to walk the dog (who was disguised as a churn brush and swept the dust on the tarmac into the semblance of a face: smiling when we went out and not when we came back).

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26/07/2014

I stepped down from my totem pole where I had sat between a one horned ram and a three headed baboon. June had been sleeping several miles in the air on a small wooden platform (I joked that the platform was infested with deathwatch beetle and then gave her a jet pack). After a haircut lunch we went out to a pool in the middle of a sea – although neither of us got wet. As is always the case in these situations I was a vampire pirate and chased after both frog princes and mermaid princesses. The new neighbours hung from giant birds and angrily slammed shut the back door in their chests while a wolf girl held captive in the wolf man tower waved a puppy dog handkerchief – the frantically waving castaway on a deserted island was unfortunately hidden by a line full of washing.

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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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