I think I knew what I was thinking (but can’t quite be sure)


 North Island drawing                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Here are some more pages from my journal/scrapbook from 10 years ago. Almost 10 years ago exactly. This is more a digital vanity project than anything. A way of me working out where my head was at back then, based on a bunch of scribbles. A way of shoring things up, bundling them and putting new ribbons around them. Making public that which maybe should just stay in dusty boxes, but why the hell not… it’s only the cluttered mucky anything-goes old internet.

Some stuff comes back to me, and I’m sure most stuff doesn’t. It’s probably best that way. Fish-eyed glimmers are fine. I don’t need or want full playback.

This is a pencil drawing of the North Island (I can tell this because I have written my imperfect cartography east coast NI). 11/12/99. And then on 12/12/99 I think I have tried to draw the weather (see dark patch of pencil – cloud cover? – on LHS).

We were on a pretty shaggy road trip of the country at the time. Here I am talking about deadly nightshade and cicadas. And just from these two things I recall exactly where I was when I wrote this and who I was with. I even have a fair idea of how I felt on this very evening.


As for this page. This is part of the Dorothy Doldrumatic thing. I don’t know what else to call it but thing. Maybe I should just call it a lifetime’s preoccupation, which may or may not go anywhere.

This was part of the trip. I can tell this from the reject polaroid. I spent a fortune on polaroids that summer. In retrospect I don’t regret a dime of that small fortune. Even the duds (above, and below) are beautiful.

This is a poem about steak pies and the TINKERBELL dairy. It is an abstraction, but I recognise the elements. I recognise them fuzzily. I can make out their outlines inside a thick film of nostalgia and general muddledness, but I recognise them, nonetheless.

we could go forever

like this

like sunshined solar batteries

like drugsmudged battery fowl

in love with summertime dumbness,

[this] picturesque captivity


how about it?


i love you on the forecourt

i love you speechless

under the homeless sky


i’m drowning in the gravy of your groovy eyes                                      tinkerbaby


And I remember on that road trip thinking we could go forever like this. Rattling around the country. But of course we couldn’t. It [life] doesn’t really work like that.

gold polaroids

Speaking of defective polaroids, these are two of my favourites.

If you squint up close you can see I have called one vesuvio 01. I think that’s because it looks a bit like a volcanic eruption. The other one looks like a fire in a valley. You kinda have to see these to get how cool they are. They have a Byzantine goldness to them. I have no idea where it came from.

They do not represent real views, just a camera malfunction, but they’re as much a part of the landscape of that road trip as anything else.


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