Friday, June 15, 2012

Russian Vine Disease

I go to the hospital ward. B is still there despite it being time for him to leave the bed. There are loads of people around.

So E should be next in the bed - he is typically nowhere to be seen- is he late or just not bothering to turn up? It's such a boring problem, his Russian Vine disease, I can hardly blame him, it's just one of those recurrent things, but you've got to keep on top of it.

Crotchet Drawing

C and I are making drawings of a piece of Elgar's music. My old french teacher Mr H pours us copious glasses of champagne and we feel deliriously happy.

Our ink is running out and Mr H is reluctant to give us any of his. He has an idea -  he will search for a later part of the music which will not require so much ink- I think he must mean that it has more minims and quavers rather than crotchets.

I secretly think that as he will be buying our drawings anyway he should give us his ink so we can get on with it.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Alan Turing Erotica

A paper covered in diagrams which reduce obscene erotic acts to mathematical formulae.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Basement Access

Because of the crazy driverless lorries, the pavements are no longer safe, and we are forced to walk along high ledges, parapets and rooves.

My shadowy partner is more fit than me jumping up athletically; I just can't do it.

We decide the other option is to travel through the city basements avoiding danger that way. A special booklet is provided which is like a kind of basement passport.

I don't think it will work - I am sure no-one will know what it is.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Poor Man's Meal

I eat off a plate piled high with baked potato, some indiscernible cabbage and a few baked beans.  There is a stack of three closed tins covered in a strange pattern reminiscent of the fabric design of London Tube seats. They are like a small pillar of precious metal looming out of this mound of too much potato.

Lairy Couple

I'm sitting in the luggage compartment of an old-fashioned train watching a mother and her teenage son playing together in the next carriage. They fight and he pulls a plastic bag down over her head. Their behaviour becomes more raucous and erotically charged. I realise she is not his mother but must be an older girlfriend.

Friday, June 08, 2012

Licking Llama

There is a pet llama licking my face.

Thursday, June 07, 2012

Modern Comedy Show

A comedy show - a typical clever-dick all male line-up except for one hidden woman. They are all about the same age 30 to 35 with thick blond hair. The audience laughs hysterically as they gurn together.

I don't think they are funny - I just don't get it.

They have no bodies - it is as if they are all conjoined.

Tuesday, June 05, 2012

Lost Suit

It's the second half of our show and I have so much to sort out during the interval.

The auditorium is filling up with people and I need my suit so that I can watch the show with Dad.

Backstage, in my underwear, I climb along awkward ledges and through complicated makeshift corridors but can't find anything or anyone to track it down.

Monday, June 04, 2012

In The Nick Of Time

A gang of us mates have been taken into a police station. I'm 17, a streak of piss, full of cheek. We're guilty of course - we'd just robbed this store - nothing much but I know the only evidence was in a B and Q receipt I had left in my wallet.

If the superintendent discovers this receipt I'll get banged up. I manage to drop it down the back of the chair. He hasn't noticed and now he's asked me to empty my pockets and he searches my wallet. He doesn't find anything but he still wants to put me in an overnight cell.

"You can't hold me," I say, "you've got no evidence."

And I get let out. I can't believe my luck.

Sunday, June 03, 2012

K Comes Back To Life Again

20 years after his death, K comes back to life again - it's all very real.

He always thought I was lazy and messy: 
he will start to spring clean, painting over old paintwork, cleaning out my drawers of rubbish and replacing it with his neatly folded socks. 

He will read my dream diary and see how he keeps coming back to life.  He will be disgusted at my lack of ambition.

Am I My Own Double?

They have produced an exact Double of myself and are sending it/him into all my usual haunts as a way of discovering highly explosive secret information.

Creeping into my dark hotel room I wonder if he has been here.

It suddenly occurs to me:

I wake up panicking.