TV Liberty

A stamp on the 10th of January in my diary. All the extras in Coronation Street gather in an aerial shot of the street singing the US national anthem. The telly is really pushing home this liberty/land of the free theme at the moment.

No Dream Recalled

Nothing recalled.

Fragment Of Song

A French boy tries to recall a very sweet song- something like- "Je ne reste..." (...I am not staying...or I can't rest/stay)

Psychedelic Trip

We are divided into groups for our sex training programme. The seats are arranged like an IMAX cinema. The lights go off and we feel like we are moving. People scream but I am familiar with this so am not alarmed. Our seats turn upside down- it's fantastically realistic to the point where I start to feel a little on edge. Out of the darkness a full moon appears. As it gets brighter it turns into an image from one of my drawings - how have they done that I wonder? The picture is like a willow pattern but blown up large. Then this turns 3D sprouting white geometric paper shoots until my whole area of vision is filled. The effect is amazing- almost scarey but I am not afraid.

We Miss The Bus In Malta

I am in -it could be - Malta with a young male friend who is vaguely familiar. We have missed our bus and so are taking a different route on the 38. There are no buses from this small village. The friend pops into a little Italian cafe. Is he asking for transport advice I wonder but no he is speaking in fluent Italian asking for Dorritos (of course he is half Italian himself). I can't quite remember what they are but end up asking for them as well.

Hectoring Professor

I am with a group of about 10 people involved in something similar to Desert Island Discs. If there were only 5 foods left in the world which would we each choose to survive on? Similarly which 5 books would we keep? A bearded professor chooses 5 unfamiliar spices from the Middle East. He thought he should be experimental. His books are all chosen from non-Western sources. He challenges one student (a smug devout Christian from my college days) on all his choices. I am slightly suspicious of this professor as he seems to be goading the others to alter their decisions. I am excluded from his hectoring due to my safe (and cowardly) choice to include the Qur'an in my otherwise Western selection.

Slave Shits Gold

A boy has been captured and a gold collar placed round his neck impossible to remove. He has become a slave to someone reminiscent of Putin. Now when he shits it turns to gold - the slave owner is rich.

Andy Warhol For London President

Andy Warhol has expressed an interest in standing as the new London President. The Labour leader has said she would immediately put him in position if she were in power and the Liberal Democrats have also agreed. It's such an exciting thought. I look back over reels of footage showing Andy's amazing imagination at work. I wonder if maybe people would come to love him, but in my heart I know that his effeminacy would enrage too many and he would never last.

Gloomy Ice Restaurant

Kat and I walk into an ice restaurant. The interior is disappointing. A couple of people sit dejectedly at side tables. Bare chipboard walls are exposed by gaps in between the sparse patches of ice.

Monster In My Pond

In my garden pond I notice what looks like a giant toad about 2 foot wide. It can hardly move- the pond just about accommodates its size. As I look closer I see there is an even bigger monster opposite it - a huge slimey octopus with three extra extensions on each of its eight tentacles. It rises up and lurches towards the toad. The most horrific battle ensues. What am I going to do with this thing??? I can hardly fish it out. Euurghhh! I feel sick...

Happy new year gentle reader!

When Is A Monologue A Dialogue?

I am in a hotel room with the artist twins Jane and Louise Wilson. They are showing me their work- a dialogue in photos, collage and video- but which relates to all kinds of subject matter beyond themselves. It is both intensely personal and universal. My own little drawings pale into insignificance.
"I just feel like I am creating a series of monologues. I wish I were a twin like you."
They laugh because it is obviously not easy being a twin like them- it is fraught with little jealousies. "Yes I know that's nonsense," I add, "we are all capable of dialogues within and beyond ourselves." One jumps on top of me - she is now a curvaceous black woman- she hugs me suggesting we go for a drink. I go to hug the other thinking I should but she shrugs me off, "You don't have to treat us both the same. We are two separate people."

A Legitimate Emergency

I am travelling on the tube. A friend jumps on carrying bundles of shopping, "I'm getting out at the next stop for the music shop," he tells me. The shop looks exciting but my friend accidently leaves his shopping behind. As the train departs I mime to him that I will get out at the following stop. Not sure he has understood. There is a huge bag of apples, a sack of other fruit, loads of paperwork and some body building powders. I only manage to drag half of it off. Will I have to pull the emergency cord? Is this a legitimate emergency? It seems so to me but I am not sure the authorities would agree.

Too Perfect Town

For two months I will stay here in New Jersey visiting some friends in a beautiful house on stilts. Half of it is empty, the windows without glass. Out of one window I can see the rest of the town - unusual buildings with second floors that seem to hover in the air. They are in fact fixed by metal brackets to a huge white wall surrounding everything. I like the design - the rest of the town I am unsure of - everything seems too perfect.

Swimming Pool Of Mud

The weather is mild. I am walking in a muddy field I think in Balham except there is no housing. In front is an old swimming pool- outdoor- or at least it is now. A man walks down into it on steps concealed by the thick mud. I follow him. The pool seems too shallow to swim in. I am not sure I want to get in. I climb back out again.

I Lose My Notes (Again)

I am expected to deliver a speech on An End To Nuclear Weapons to the audience in a club. The speakers before me were scarcely able to put two words together. The old chairman is doing his best but the night is a shambles. I tell him I will speak next, "Give me five minutes to sort out my notes." Of course I don't have my notes, so I panic. Although I have given this talk before I can't remember anything. I have pictures but what do they represent? I decide I can't give the talk so I hide under the floorboards. I tell one of my old schoolfriends I am going to sneak out.

Just Not Funny

A friend's new cabaret show is a list of awful gags that are not funny at all. He endlessly repeats (the late) H.R.H.Regina Fong's impression of Cilla Black, milking it dry. The small audience however seem to enjoy it to the extent that one boy works with him to refilm "Tarzan and the Ape". In this version a rabbit is perched on Tarzan's shoulder twitching its nose.

Delicate Drawings

Is this the West Ham Unit? I ask Alice. We have been divided into three groups and I am reluctant to join any other. Yes I am in the right unit. I am thrilled. The room is full of students' exquisite work. Big glass cases display hundreds of identical objects in compartments like a sweet shop display or an old fashioned builders merchants. My favourites are delicate drawings like kaleidoscopic spiders' webs. I want my work to be as detailed and fine- I wonder if I can manage it in the time.

No Dream Recalled

Nothing remembered.

Film Of Reagan's Assassination

John Maybury is showing some of his old films. This one shows an early clip of him interviewing Ronald Reagan after a scene where Reagan is shot. John F. Kennedy and I quickly wipe away the blood from the pavement for decency's sake. Throughout the interview John is charming almost like he is a good friend. He addresses the camera directly using exaggerated gestures. As he watches the footage with me he tells me he feels a bit uncomfortable about it now.

Home Is Where The Heart Is

I find out that my home is built on a vast net of wellington boots, camouflaged to appear like a craggy cliff. My partner lives here with me in the middle of a landfill site by the sea - he is a hybrid conjured up from (long dead) Kev and a couple of other unrequited loves. He munches on a chocolate donut made from wellies. Parallel to us hangs another fake cliff. This is all we can afford. I know we should move - it's all far too precarious. Having said that, we have made this our home and it's the best we could improvise from what is an imperfect situation.