Back to Treliske – the usual routine and I manage not to quite so grouchy this time. Its not the staff, who are just great, or Doc Kruger who is breif and to the point “We’re getting there, but have to just keep cracking away at it – no let up!” No, its just the dread of more toxins being pumped in. Doing me bad to do me good again.
I read half-heartedly and doze off frequently. I’ve haven’t the energy to hold the book or play with GarageBand just enough to get through the day. The big guy opposite keeps nodding off and dropping his book and snoring loudly, sometimes loudly enough to wake himself up it seems. We’re all going through it in here.
Ali picks me up with Milli and back at the studio we cook supper and watch a tense episode of ‘Breaking Bad’ with more cancer-fuelled carnage and mayhem. Then I’m reading till 2am as the steroids keep me awake and my feet are pounding sore.
I have a strange art-world dream – its an exhibition opening populated by lots of people I know or used to know and lots of strangers. I’ve made this chess board but the pieces are sturdy Neolithic stones and menhirs on one side and a minature oak forest on the other, so dense you can hardly make out the squares below. Its a slow game and its hard to tell whose winning…where did that come from?