20.51 pm ( sat on the sofa with Syd singing beside me and Naoise is making christmas cards) This moment is close to being a moment of joy. I don’t want to talk to this screen. I don’t want to tell you about eating sour milk poured on cereal. I don’t want to tell
19.59pm ( sat at the table in the front room at home) The wings black feathers clung on to the spindly bone. A crows wing perhaps. A boy child found the remnants and walked hunched over clasping one boney fleshy bit between two sticks whilst calling to his mother to look look look what I
11.51am (in the studio at my desk) I am trying to write. The studio is busy with students so trying to drown out the noise of polite talk with some music. Benjamin Clementine again. I will tire of his music if I end up over playing it, but with most things in my life I
10.05am ( sat at my desk in the studio) Its minging weather again. It rains and rains and rains. I prefer the frost and ice to the rain. I listened to Benjamin Clementine to lift my spirits. I have drunk far too much coffee. I woke at five managed to stay resting in bed till
9.35am. Sitting in the entrance of the sure start centre, waiting for the Friendship Group to begin. To get Naoise to eat his breakfast this morning, I needed to sit him on my knee and feed him like a baby. I posted shredded wheat pillows into his mouth. Mother Bird. I will literally do anything
19.16pm (sat on the sofa with Naoise asleep) Back from YSP and a visit to see Bill Viola. Eaten too many liquorice allsorts. Arrived late in the afternoon but managed an hour in the galleries then a moon lit walk. The park at night is a tranquil place when emptied of people. Me and Naoise
Midnight-ish Today has been one of those days that I would rather forget. It began at 4am in the morning. Snow on the skylight woke me. The first snow. I went downstairs and looked out of the window. Everyone asleep. Thin snow on car roofs. Glad I had seen it, as I thought that this
11.50am ( at the table in the front room) P has gone back to work, his only real concern was how to keep his support stocking from falling down. He took a crutch and imagined that he would be hitching it up as he walked along the road. I suggested a suspender belt might help
6.48am (sat on the sofa) I cleaned the grim from the screen and out of the crevices of my keyboard. I tidied a kitchen cupboard so that I could put away a stash of plastic bottles and tupperware. I put the washing machine on. I tidied Syd’s school bag, signed his journal. Noted the one
7.01 am ( sat slumped on the sofa) I am confused. Ever feel overwhelmed by what work there is to do? I have made a massive project M(other) Stories, it is full to the brim of words and thoughts and ideas and images. A proliferation of images. So how do I tackle that, how do
