the sleepless, the restless & the drunk*


Journal excavation, again. Different journal and lolly-coloured lenses to add an element of visual interest.

I started this and then got sidetracked rearranging words/lines out of this journal. It was fun until I got bored.

It’s all scribbles and glued stuff. And so many words in strange sequences, like dodecahedron and gingerbread and beeswax and chalkboard and nausea and getaway.  And things like magic shagpile carpets and mermaid merriment. It’s all very enlightening. Tricky tinder and cockroach copulations and heartsick fits of fright. Not to mention lines from The Carpenters written out in all but smudged-over pastel (it’s a dirty old shame when all you get from love is a love song, etc).

I just rejigged this (before I got bored/stuck):



I’ve got your keys

in my back pocket. This is not tantamount    to love.   The roads are unsealed.

The corners are blind.

Your heart seeks more than your hands do.



& nostalgic shadows besiege the city

& pieces of paper roll off the tongue


& my heart of silk

is filled with lights

in spite of it all –

(all this sepia-steeped regret,

all this chickenshit artifice)



I think this is my favourite of all my journals. It’s just scribbles and drawings and nonsense, but it’s the one I look at the most. It’s me and it’s not me. It’s quite sweet. I may rescue some more of it. And next year as part of my fun study I will make a whole new picture-and-scribble journal — like this one, only maybe a bit more coherent (for better or worse). I’m looking forward to it.

* a line from an article about night vagrants c. 1997, cut out and stuck in the book. I guess I’ve always had a thing about night and its unhinging. If that makes sense. Possibly not, if this journal is anything to go by.


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