every night when i go to bed, just before i fall asleep i get ideas. they pop up and i always need to write them down. usually words, sometimes images. i scribble them on a piece of paper and i throw them from my loft bed into the hallway. i do the same when i have images in my dreams that i think i can use.

every morning when i climb out of bed, i collect the pieces of paper in the hallway. sometimes there's a whole pile, sometimes there's just one. some i can't read however hard i try. of some i haven't got a clue what they're about. of some i think: why did i write that down, i would have remembered anyway. sometimes i think: wow, what a great idea! some are just plain stupid. and some, probably about ten percent, turn into actual objects. or films. or photographs.

ampules / laboratory

there's no way to visualise a creative process. but you can pretend, of course.

i guess the reason why people are so intrigued by certain artists is because they can only guess at how that process goes. it's not really in the end product. or it is, but you can't analyse it. the magic part is indefinable.

fly or die

from my father's sketchbook

1974

i was six. he wrote: jenneke says: i can't stop thinking.

the anti-muse song (the cabinet of spirits part II)

i will not be your muse

let you

fill your fountain pen with my spirit

you sucked up when i was asleep

wrote your words from my hands

spinning tales from my hair

your song the shape of my groins

i will

swallow my words speaking backwards

my fluids flowing back to me

my kiss so dry

your tongue pulls back in fear

my lust inhaled

safe in my chest

my nipples, soft

my breath all mine

the sheets not crumpled

pluto back in the sky

i was never there