Sunday, August 31, 2003

this morning:

i woke up not knowing which room is my real one - this one or the other one. the other one is a very big ballroom-sized room, with high ceilings and white walls except i can't see any of them. the windows look out onto nothingess, and i sleep in a double bed with my head under a waterfall. the rest of the room is empty, though i see unidentifyable people meandering round the edges. i am asked to move my bed to a more healthy position. it is beautiful but it is confinement. or else there's this room that i just woke up in. i woke up genuinely not knowing which is my real room.
sat 30 aug

someone is trying to make me think that there's a ghost in the house. the box of pink and blue feathers that we keep in the kitchen is empty now, because the breeze sweeps them around the air in my house all day long. tonight i see feathers blow around again from a freshly-filled box. i know it's the FBI, because only americans would be that stupid as to think this will trick me.
weds 27 aug

there's been a murder. the man inside the sun saw everything. me and the old lady scamming to buy all the alcohol put everyone in prison. meg came to stay and she smelt of doctors and sick people. we are celebrating because the war is over.

thurs 28 aug

came out of the shop and watched mars rushing round and round the sky like superman, colours bleeding into the moon. then i saw the little kid up the tree behind me with the planet attached to a very long piece of string attached to a stick. everyone laughed at me as soon as i figured it out so i got in my car and left.

fri 29 aug

i was sleeping in the back seat. mym's driving. the severn bridge is actually a jungle. i open my eyes and we've crashed on side. wheel spinning. mum is unconscious on the railway tracks. i move everything out of the way. other people come and take her away. it's the last day of the century. then jon takes me to buckingham palace for dinner. all my old school aquaintances are there. i have to sit on a table with brand new people. i take my knickers off and put them on the table. this is a protest and i am sulking. they are peach coloured.
Sun 24 Aug

i've sought out copyright details already. a 15-page poem about trout / other fish. i know it's murkym gloomy. people know me as a novelist already. i write under an assumed name. i'm really good and i've been to stay with a strange girl in what looks like a lunatic asylum. the family in the house next door's trees keep on bursting into flames. "do you think they've noticed."

i'm in my own band and we're playing a gig. we're giant cockroaches. i just have to wipe away the footprints that link me to the murder.

who cares about writing poems. i just want to dance.

Monday, August 25, 2003

these are from sat 16:

we're visiting jess in hospital. it's a hospital combined with a museum and an ikea. it's all i can do to stop the others from tearing up the exhibits to take the roman art home. we get to jess's room an hour later and she's really fucked off because she's had to entertain my parents for the past hour. i apologise and go back down to find jane and kieron ripping a pair of ancient skies off the wall.


trying to cross a massive ice flow with mum and dad and fred astaire. we are indoors. i want to rush on ahead but i realise fred has a better eye for the thing patches than me. he and dad are pushing all the ice forwards, so that there are no thin bits left. i slip off the end but manage to catch hold of a ringbinder which takes my weight. mum sits on top of the mountain and i realise that the whole ice flow is made of ringbinders.


everyone drives past this big old cathedral in town and undoes the top button of their blouses. no one wants to seem too conservative.

Wednesday, August 13, 2003

we're in a place where they're giving away rows of buildings to people who want to humiliate their enemies. there's a little kid who grabs me and lines me up against the streetlights. he's making me eat worms in front of everyone. why do you want me to eat worms you fucker?

Monday, August 11, 2003

needing to leave the country. go to david charrington's. he fixes drinks while i'm not there and jess realises something very important. Conran and Aikin sit around drinking beer and vodka before emigrating. they're not worried.

before i go i bring my lover back home to meet my dad and my brother, who i know will not approve of him because he is a circus clown and performer, and this is the 1940s. we are under our stall in the street; it is raining, we're under a big umbrella. my brother almost walks straight past but we make eye contact. he smiles. i burst into tears. we haven't met in years. then he sees my lover, who says nothing, but smiles shyly. all my brother says, sternly, is "you have to leave the country now. it's time."

Friday, August 08, 2003

the little girl beckons to me. she wants to ask me a question but she's scared of the company i'm in. i excuse myself from the journalists. "yes janet?" i smile. "have you lost my letter?" no. i reassure her. i haven't lost her letter. but i suddenly realise i've lost a beermat that kieron wanted me to show to someone. i feel very guilty and john walker is not helping. he is nodding.

Wednesday, August 06, 2003

we're watching a show about how extreme sports affects the numbers of trout in our waters. after it's finished i take everyone to my parents' home, in New York, for Christmas. my parents have turned into REAL italians. mum has jewellery, big handbags, fur coat. dad wears a brown overcoat and he has a moustache again. they have adopted a new son to replace me. my old poetry tutor is there. he's put on a little weight, which suits him. he starts to bang a big metal tray with his right hand. we just stare at him but he says he's happy. if water flows into a village, somewhere it has to flow out.

Monday, August 04, 2003

end of something party. i was walking home. sidled down the sheer side of a hill, neatly dropping onto tree roots halfway down like a pro. make eye contact with a guy who happened to be watching. i smile and run away.

i go into the bar that is between me and the way home. it's a nature park too. there are lots of fluffy border collies everywhere with signs saying "this dog needs a new heart".

i need to get out so i can get home. i can hear all the big brother vips lining up behind me.

i find a door and go out, have to walk through the beer garden to reach the footpath - tables are being cleared by staff. i step around onto a stack of chairs on the floor, and put my foot straight through the face of a corpse that is stacked there too. "oh - he's dead" giggles one of the staff. "ah" i say and leave for the footpath.

Sunday, August 03, 2003

we were leaving Trinidad by plane but none of the windows would work, and a bit of the wing fell off and i was like "no way am i flying anywhere on this thing" so we go for a ferry instead. as it's leaving it scrapes past the cliffs and we uproot half a tree. it's kind of stuck between the deck and the waterline. "no" i say and dive into the water and swim to shore. the ferry takes off and no one knows what to do. they fly too.

i'm ashore now, relieved, and looking for a sweetshop. i need sugar. liquorish strings. and sour cola bottles. i think charlie is in charge of the shop, and she's still 16.

i leave and join my mum in a villa carved out of rock. it's sicily, but it looks like we're on mars. the rocks are red, the villa, the sky everything is red. huge stones tumble down infront of us to the sea. i climb up and sit on the roof and wait.

some tiny kid keeps bringing me an old telephone, so he can transfer all the calls the germans are making to me. all the kid ever says when he brings me the phone is "bye". i don't speak german so i never accept the charges. the landscape is just stopped there and i'm waiting.