Saturday, May 26, 2007


In my garden is a home.Made dome.I can't get the Internet reception, but I can use my mobile phone.I got my period, so I go into the tent and lie down. It feel like some ancient sacred space in here. A place where I can space out on nature.
Listening to the rain, and smelling the breeze. Watching spiders and water drops.
Now I can hear the birds not drowned out by the hum of electricity and o the Saturday traffic. All of this to numb the dull ache and pain in my womb.
Eventually I get up, go inside the house, boil a kettle, make a hot water bottle and switch on the broadband. UPLOAD.

Friday, May 18, 2007


Inside and out, I get creating. I don't make any money, but it doesn't cost me anything either, and keeps me off the streets. Consume consume con con con

Sunday, May 06, 2007


IT IS A WIZE CHOICE, not always an easy one, being an artist. A curse that has to be played out in order to return as a happy factory worker. Not like I have a choice, or is it control. To give myself control and easing of emotions is me artist bit. But justice as I think I'll have to give it all up I spot 'two boys kissing.'