Golf

Sometimes the Tree House visits itself in The Dimension of Happy Victorian Golfers, which is found in the attic room. The psychedelic window vortex is made of light powered by Tiriana Lamp-Post7, who was once someone else in a Kurt Vonnegut book (but only when it was open). Window pains no longer exist in this room because they are incompatible with golf, from any dimension, and clouds float through from Tuesday evening to Saturday afternoon.

Today there was only one golfer but it looked happy enough. It's name is Percia Outward-Nine, one of the best golfers that has ever lived and thirty-three times winner of the prestigious Jolly Golfer Trophy. I usually put a tin bowl on my head and hide behind the sofa when Percia is about, it's the best approach to take in the circumstances and allows me to practice my invisible technique.

Dreaming

There is a legend here in the hamlet of Randall-Hopkirk, a very scary legend, about a big giant known by the name of The Big Giant. And last night he appeared in a dream dragging a string of sausages, whilst piercing my very being with his evil eyes. I was terrified. It is said that the sausages are the enslaved souls of his victims who must follow The Big Giant wherever he goes (including peoples' dreams), and they must live without voting rights or shoes.

Transfixed by this abominable vision, I was unable to escape his looming presence and resigned myself to whatever fate he had in store for me. Suddenly, unexpectedly and without warning or due caution, The Big Giant grunted then said
"What are you doing?"
My voice spoke into the dream without my mind working
"What's it look like.. I'm waiting for a bus you fuckwit."
He looked at the bus stop next to me and considered the situation for a while, then became incredibly enraged and tripped over his sausages.

I awoke as my bedroom began to materialize around me, and a cow farted outside. Realizing my encounter with the giant was merely a dream I experienced a sensation of incredible relief, until I discovered I was a sausage.

At the moment, I am not sure if this is another dream.. all I do know for certain is I cannot find my shoes and the vote button on my remote-control won't work for Big Brother or The X Factor...

The Green Nun

Yesterday the Earth turned around and tomorrow arrived, I'm so small I had to go around with the planet. It's the same for most of us. However, tomorrow had a curious landscape with wobbly hills and a flexible sky, some fields and also a green nun.

She said there were other people about who did'nt feel like they were thinking in the correct sequence. I turned around and moved across the fields of colours, into strobes of time, flying with the cycle runners through a cosmic rhyme.. realizing with glee I was out of my tree.

Friday Afternoons

Friday afternoons are often spent in the company of Betty Tottie, a highly evolved being from the Sepia Dimension. This week she was accompanied by Carapace Pips who has a hole in his head that makes him exist twice (but nobody knows how).

As we drank Sepia tea, Betty told me of a shift in consciousness that is due to occur in their dimension. Apparently, some time in the not too distant future, chandeliers and coconuts from our world will be sucked into one of Mr Pips' holes and this will be followed by an explosion of digestive biscuits from his other hole into their dimension. I sipped my tea and gazed at Mr Pips for a while, then at Betty, and decided to read a book.

Talk Art

Today turned out to be a cultural event with the arrival of Tard Brush, who is the Art Overlord of Bewilderment in the 7th Quadrant of Bumm. We enjoyed the pickled cheeses he'd kindly brought along, and discussed many aspects of Galactic art whilst listening to some early Roxy Music albums.

I have made a short documentary of Overlord Brush's views on "L'Escargot" by Henri Matisse, which you can see here (his 7th Quadrant cellular construction makes it difficult for an Earth camera to clearly capture his image, hence the poor film quality)..

Mind-Moon

Last week my friend Hershel Phibes popped up here to perform some mind-mooning. He is the third born of a third child of another third born who were all born on the third day of the third month in a garden shed during a full-moon, and he can make his bath water move into the kitchen and back again by walking around a tennis ball.

To prepare for a mind-moon, Mr Phibes must eat a gingerbread man and a car battery, followed by a bottle of Jack Daniels. He then becomes attuned to the moon's vibration which enables him to bring forth messages that it sends.

The messages are varied and wide ranging, on this occasion an image appeared accompanied by a voice "Robert is satisfied with his trousers." We don't know who Robert is but we feel glad for him.