I'll do anything for you dear anything......................

Well, here I am in England on a rainy day just mulling over how to tell the relentless tale of my endless ambition. I am assuming it began somewhere, but it set root so long ago that I can barely remember its feet. Somewhere in the recess of my heart it began, I think it was when my Mother told me I could 'do anything if I really set my mind to it'. Anything was a big word for me and I don't just mean the fact that it had eight letters and three syllables. It was the overwhelming vista of it's ANY and THING ness, it was the land of limitless choice, endless potential, and brain curving, mind numbing horizons that existed on some vast continuum that had no form, beginning or end. The more you tried to define the 'doing anything' scenario the more it would slip through your fingers like an impossible wet mango you were desperate to eat that flew into the air and landed far, far away from your taste buds leaving your hands sweet and sticky with its tantalising juice.

At the age of eight I was faced with an existential and philosophical crisis. Mother why did you have to burden me with so much space to dream into? Why didn't you tell me I could paint houses, embroider peoples ears, sneeze for a living, what ever, but not this any thing, thing, the thing that is, the very thing I can't see or speak of. You are a wag with no tail anything, the thing that wouldn't be defined and yet in it's nasty bite your rear end way is the very thing that is due to define me. I smite you anything, I beseech you anything, please show yourself, abate my suffering and reveal the deal that I am dealing with. Get out of that black hole and show yourself to me. I demand it. I must know what anything is.

After the trouble with ‘anything’ I moved into a worry about the ‘setting my mind to it’ aspect of the maternal order. Was my mind like a clock with alarms that would go off at any moment? I felt like I could go of at any moment or set hard like concrete. I felt trapped in an uncertain and peculiar destiny. I knew I wanted to find that beastly A-thing, the horror that was burning a hole in my brain pocket and making me itch all over.

At a certain point I realised that some people were more important in the world and belonged to a recognisable set of ‘visible people’; people who were rich, people who were famous, people who were ‘someone’, and had made ‘something’ of themselves. I new I belonged to the ‘no one’ set at as a child. Some children were exceptions to the ‘no one’ rule, because somehow they had managed to escape the inevitable invisibility of childhood by being Shirley Temple, or a genius, or disappearing or by being Royal. I wanted that attention, I wanted that status, but I did wonder if the elusive and as yet undefined is a good place to put your ambition and desire.

So in that invisibility my endless and undifferentiated ambition was born. A parallel all singing all dancing, demanding shadow of myself that lives in a cartoon world, waiting for the moment when my ego will be drenched in praise and all my powers will be revealed. These diaries document the highs and lows of pursuing the dream of being a ‘GLOBAL PHENOMENON’ and becoming anything but a ‘no one’ and something of a ‘Someone’. Or is it a journey about accepting death and life and the limitations of being human, or a quest for love perhaps? Right now at the end of submission number one your guess dear reader is as good as mine.