out of sequence it doesn't make sense and i fear it wouldn't if i tried to restore sequentiality. i think why, but what does that even matter. os i could say nothing but that seems impossible. os? i'm not sure, maybe Of sequence?

and how i could "make" something out of nothing, but then left with the feeling i was nothing, just like my father said.

angry at my camera.

anyway, i know it doesn't matter, whatever i may say, i have no reality and am just desperately trying to make a story out of nothing and that's my paltry life.

but one day will i just wander off unnoticed like when i was a kid, this time not coming back. the painful thing is the question why is rhetorical when one hungers so for it to be simply answered.

birds, sinking through the earth.

box of winnie's ghost

courage, my dog.

i can't explain regret human.

why is dave grohl popular.

i have to say the thing that scares and saddens me most, more than cars even, is working without inspiration or direction. falling in a chasm of ice.

i'm always hoping i'm not in trouble and i know i'm in trouble and i'm hoping.

i may not have put it then as i would do now, but i knew i was just surviving, there was a desperate seriousness to my play, i knew i was merely surviving, amazing how consistent i am over time.

ice dogs

inner junk chorine

it's really frightening, i was once in a continual fantasy, frightful too at times but inspired, i made nothing out of it that lasted, a couple flat drawings of red bunnies and such, but i didn't need to prove my existence because i was a kid and i just lived it, i just lived through it. but now i'm bereft and flat and uninspired. and scared like then advanced in age.

maybe i should just look intently and softly for the image that soothes. oh i've done that, and i've even been soothed.

the more i think of it, i felt exactly then as i do now, i went out seeking animals and streams and old bottles and abandoned stuff in the verges and i got bit by snakes and glass and even then i was alone and at large friendless.

opinions don't matter but

please tell me something of true candour.

rock candy was a favour (rock candy tree).

story of a dog in a fairy tale in the edge of a development by a forest concealing a laboratory and with some white siberian elk ghosting the trees. a dog takes you to story.

so the difference between childhood and now, is it only age.

tocsin.

too complicated.