The Men in the Shadows

The men in the shadows The sketch is one i did a long time ago. It is of the men in the shadows, they were here then and they are here again. How to explain without seeming completely loopy?

There are men, at least they look like men, standing in the corners watching me. Not all the time, just occasionally. They have been here lately. They look like film detectives in long dodgy coats and black hats. They stand in the corners of my flat, by green bushes as I walk along the pavement, only half visible, but very definitely there.

They have taken lots of forms before though, government officials, aliens, the devil. Think I wrote a blog about them once or twice. I know it is them because there is something very sinister about them. They are taking notes on me, monitoring me. I often try to make light of them, call them friendly aliens or perhaps even Derek, and then they go away for a bit. But they always come back.

What do they want?

Where do they come from?

Do they mean me harm?

Why me?!

They don’t talk. Sometimes they open their mouths like they are going to scream, but nothing comes out.

What do they know that I don’t?

What am I supposed to do?

Is it part of a conspiracy?

The other day I was seeing them around lots. Also people’s faces were changing, collapsing. Like mercury their noses and eyes were melting down their faces.

Were they part of the same conspiracy?

yet I must pretend that they are not there, that I can’t see them, and that everyone face is in one piece and not sliding off. I must pretend that everything is ok, and so I do.

A Mess, and a possible ghost

This weekend I’ve been moving out of my art studio and trying to get all my stuff into my flat. This is very much like trying to fit a large elephant in a shoebox, practically it is just not going to happen. I’m giving it a good go though. I’ve decided it needs to be done with finite detail and order. All items must be in their own box and labelled. And the boxes can’t just be any old box, and since I can’t afford to buy storage boxes I’m decorating old shoe boxes of mine. Yes it’s all become very Blue Peter here, and unsurprisingly it is all taking a long time.

” I will get there, I will get order!” I say to myself as my body droops and part of my brain is secretly thinking it could just leave it all piled up throughout the flat and live on top of it. Last time I started doing that the cat got so distressed she poo-ed all over the flat. She likes things clean and tidy and in order. So I continue with this slow process. A couple of people’s offered to come round and help, but I can’t think how that would work, or rather I can understand perfectly how that would work, they would want to throw out 90% of my belongings thinking it’s useless rubbish where as I live in the constant belief that each and every item will be of vital importance one day.

I’m now having a glass of whiskey to celebrate having decorated 3 boxes, cleaned out 6 old boxes, neatly filed away my drawings of monsters, plants and almost human creatures, ordered the scissors, glue, tape and string and labelled them and threw out a whole bunch of old magazines. I was very pleased with throwing out the magazines, I just have to make sure I go ahead with it tomorrow and fully chuck them out, rather than search through the bin for snippets of information that are just so very important…

I think there is a ghost in this flat, but it’s an alright one, not troublesome. It is just always cold here, the doors bang shut or open of there own accord with no wind, and things fall off shelves when nobody is in the room. I’ve seen ghosts here and heard voices but then what I see and hear can not be trusted as I hallucinate so much, but there is something more believable about the banging and crashing and finding things on the floor that shouldn’t be… though I suppose it could just be the cat.

The whiskey is delicious and blurs the hideous mess around me. I start to look at the shapes and colours as abstract, lacking a name or purpose, and in this situation it is very enjoyable, not like coming round from a seizure where the not knowing what anything is, is terrifying.

No right now I am floating,

in my mess,

with the cat looking deeply unimpressed.