Words
White.
No, blue.
Then white (with a sun roof).
Then blue.
A darker blue.
Then black.
Ketchup, not Brown Sauce. (Except on bacon).
Chinese not Pizza.
Fried not boiled.
Beer not wine.
Oils not chalks.
Pubs not clubs.
“It’s all over the carpet now. Your bed is like an island.”
- I know.
“If you get off the bed it will stop.”
- I don’t want it to stop. Not just yet.
Shared silence not inane chatter.
Was it something I said?
Did you draw that?
How long did it take?
What is the name of the tune that goes
Do you know the way to San Jose?
That is the answer.
What was the question?
Was that someone at the door?
“You could change the rules. Make it that it stops only if you go out the door, but not if you just get off the bed.”
- No. The game monster will know.
Angela Bishop’s socks, worn thin at the sides from the constant tugging of her thumbs.
Red fuchsias in a green box.
A tin RSPCA badge.
A caravan in Mablethorpe.
Sleeping on the very edge of the bed pretending it was a branch.
“Do you remember that night in Liverpool when you took that decongestant for a cold? You said you could hallucinate at will, and control the entire content of your dreams. And you had a medical examination the next day to qualify for the profession.”
- Yes. It’s a bit like that. I doubt that stuff is still legal. Are you going by a chemist today?
I’ll see you in my dreams.
There’s someone at the door.
There’s no need for all that.
There’s nothing anyone can do.
Didn’t you used to be?
At the third stroke it will be.
People only accuse you of trying to be clever when you’ve completely out smarted them.
T.V. Comic.
Then Lion.
Then Billy Fury Monthly.
Then the N.M.E.
One in 3,700 Kit Kat bars have no wafer. Make a wish if you find one to find another one. Then wish again.
The first picture I got on a wall was of Africa. It was just a tree surrounded by grass, but the teacher said it looked the most like Africa because there was no jungle. I suppose the Tarzan books must have lied to me. I lied about Lion Comic earlier on. Both Biggles and Tarzan came before that.
My first oil painting was of a sunrise. I’d gotten up in the early hours of the morning to go to the toilet, saw the sunrise, made a quick sketch of it, got up later and painted it using the box of oils I’d got for Christmas.
I can’t quite put my finger on it.
It plays on my mind.
It gets on my nerves.
It’s on the tip of my tongue.
- What will the first comment be on my blog?
“I don’t know. What does it say in the first few lines?”
- Just a list of colours.
“Then the first comment will be about someone’s favourite colour.”
- I could put that bit nearer the end, only there’s no end in sight.
“I hope you’re going to pick all that up after you.”
All artwork & text copyright Ian G Craig.
