A Much Earlier Weekly Diary


I got out of bed the imaginary garden side (with luxurious perfume and layers of bird song) and then dressed as a mandrill – which is quite normal for a summer morning. Unfortunately I soon fell into the intestinal scaffolding which holds up the theatrical scenery. I scrambled about the nexus of pipes expecting any minute for the audience to erupt into uncontrolled laughter. When it didn’t I went to work in the church mouse mine.



I went to “Sky Lodge”, a holiday home for tired robots, with a handful of Nashville session musicians in my pocket – I heard a number of different songs simultaneously as I searched for my keys. It took me a little while to morph into a human vacuum cleaner while my young friends changed into mechanical canaries. I hoovered up the seed sown by passing celebrities as the sea climbed the highest mountain just for the fun of it.



A day spent entirely in the garden which I secretly pulled out of, an otherwise normal, sardine can. The sky was as high as a medieval hall as I pulled the tentacles of the kraken out of the sands of an Arabian desert. While tucking my favourite new world premonition into it’s amphibious bed I dreamed my wife had gone line dancing with a gang of marsupials in a floodlit aquarium.



A long day which I frittered away smearing mud on the faces of vanished warriors and listening to voices from my happier times which have always emanated from the carefully upturned flowers. I later tied myself to a twisted trunk and watched the sun girl play tennis with the moon dog – the star cat fell asleep on the armchair dreaming of it’s exam results.



I didn’t have to go out today so remained in the house modelled on one of the moons of Jupiter; it has round windows in the craters and the remains of ancient cosmological events playing around the radio aerials. Even though I was an old cuckoo in a forgotten clock I found time to fabricate a portrait of myself from fossilised twigs and an old pair of tights and rescue the puffball fairy from a vicious tool box ogre.



When I finally squeezed myself out of bed (like toothpaste) I was surprised to find it was shaped like a giant hand. I quickly checked to see if it was wearing a wedding ring. There followed a fairly typical morning with centipedes doing the washing up and caterpillars walking the dog. On the way to town I found a stray woolly rhinoceros and wasted a lot of time trying to find it’s owner. It is amazing how many cavemen live in my town.



I started the day in a good mood, as castles perched high in the clouds drifted by, but ended it locked in a brown study – I took a brown book off the brown shelf and pretended to read it. The day was split in two like an open book. After I came back from circling the rim of a silver spoon for three hours I climbed onto stilts and painted a picture of a pillar on a pillar.


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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