Stream of Unconciousness?
I thought I ought to at least pretend I am making a concerted effort with this, since I bothered to come back at all in February, then promptly got distracted and forgot all about it again. Being the thorn in the paw of the BNP does rather eat into one's 'me' time. But it keeps me engaged, out of trouble, and perhaps most importantly, it keeps me sober and undepressed.
I digress.
Today, that rarest of delights came upon me - a burst of enthusiasm and creativity that only a lack of meds or an infusion of alcohol can usually produce. So I am riding the pony, flogging it for all it is worth, as this can never last for too long. My 'stream of consciousness' has been sprung a huge leak today, all over the desk, through my lens, even out of my mouth. The sun is helping.... so long have we waited. A shot of vitamin D eases the ennui and puts the action stations on red alert. Parp, parp! Next stop, writer's block, so fill them tickets while you can....
I had a PAP smear this afternoon. Am I the only person who actually doesn't mind this procedure? Every nurse I see issues a gentle but sincere warning, as though they will be extracting the sample with their bare fist, but today was the first time I have ever been anything less than utterly blase about the experience. God love her, I like the nurse, but for a small lady she is brutally heavy-handed. Some insert slowly and gently, others warm the speculum in their gloved hands prior to invasion. This one... bung it in, crank it up, scrape! Ah well... her scales confirmed I am not as fat as I had expected. Now the really painful part - the wait for the results.
And the clinic carpark was an array of soft auburns! Tender hints of spring, peeking out of desolate branches, twisted with the cold, and filling with sap, ready to showcase Mother Nature in all her Spring glory. The brownness is now punctuated with flecks of green, accents of yellow and pale blue, dancing in the receding shadows, as the whole verge comes to life.
I stood and took some pictures while I waited for my car.
Rymes seem to be flowing freely from me at the moment. On my birthday, fuelled with champagne (3 whole glasses, how unrestrained), I banged out some bitter old words about an ex and some other black-edged stuff. Nothing materliased, but I had the buzz. I have it again today. One day I will finish that anthology, and all of this will be not idle chanking, but the outpourings of a frustrated genius. It's not angry anymore, it's just words, but they connect better and flow, with some fiddling. Don't get me wrong, they will never be happy by and large, but they are no longer bleak and nihilistic.
John Cooper Clarke I am not.
So what else is new? I cannot wait to go and see Pepe.... it has been almost four years and I have missed him like a slave heart misses democracy. Both of us have unravelled some of the knots, but the fundamentals remain the same. He was my Valentine's gift, in lieu of romantic love, and I would prefer him over forecourt roses and bad chocolate anyday. We have so much planned. There will probably be tears. Good ones.
One has sacked the bank, and is about to sack the other bank. Four long years of clerical errors and customer service that would make McDonalds blush, culminating in an order being posted three weeks late. They put a block on my card as they had spotted 'unusual activity' (I usually just like to look at money, but that day I had actually spent some) and put a block on my card in case I was being fraudulently fucked; I was not. And they did this without warning me first. Payments bounced. Charges were charged. Fuses have now blown.
Why can nobody do a job properly anymore?
Apart from Bill, that is. He remains my saviour, my sunbeam and my muse. Scrupulous attention to detail, utter sympathy and a real desire to please. This man should be canonised. I'm not even joking. Businessman Of The Millenium.
Four weeks today to the general election. I really, REALLY hope we have all done enough to cost Swivel-eyes any MPs. I am so very proud of everyone that works on our campaign, and alongside us - we are truly blessed with greatness. It is like being part of an awesome, large, clever, compassionate and selfless family. Our combined skills can get almost anything done.
In a little over five weeks, we will have been without The Father for three years. Three years. It doesn't sound right. In one way, it feels like yesterday, and in others, I feel I have done so very much in the past three years, it could have been a lifetime since he was here. I wonder what Vishnu's plan was for him, and where he is, and indeed who he is now. I wonder if he is finally able to see through the fag smoke and obstinacy and be proud of me. I am starting to be proud of me.
Little Man has now been dieting for a little over a month, and has his first weigh-in at the vet tomorrow. Dr P has left us and we are suitably devastated - we love Dr P. Or maybe just I do, and I am anthropomorphising Little Man some. I'm no fan of change. If one peers down upon him, ribs can be seen moving under the now lesser saturation of flesh. He has a nice little waist forming. We are aiming for 2kg off, so let's cross things that we are almost there?!
I really want to go to Cornwall. A British break, away from the noise and bustle of urban life would be most satisfying this year. No baggage halls, customs apes, stupid public, etc. I have run it up several peoples' flagpoles,and am waiting for salutes. Amsterdam Pride, of course, is on the August agenda.
Ah well, there's an update, of sorts. Perhaps tomorow I shall be more coherent, or possibly just more targetted. What matters is, I will soon be able to read the drafts to myself in my own voice - Tuesday I get the veneers fitted that will rid me of this ghastly speech impediment!
I digress.
Today, that rarest of delights came upon me - a burst of enthusiasm and creativity that only a lack of meds or an infusion of alcohol can usually produce. So I am riding the pony, flogging it for all it is worth, as this can never last for too long. My 'stream of consciousness' has been sprung a huge leak today, all over the desk, through my lens, even out of my mouth. The sun is helping.... so long have we waited. A shot of vitamin D eases the ennui and puts the action stations on red alert. Parp, parp! Next stop, writer's block, so fill them tickets while you can....
I had a PAP smear this afternoon. Am I the only person who actually doesn't mind this procedure? Every nurse I see issues a gentle but sincere warning, as though they will be extracting the sample with their bare fist, but today was the first time I have ever been anything less than utterly blase about the experience. God love her, I like the nurse, but for a small lady she is brutally heavy-handed. Some insert slowly and gently, others warm the speculum in their gloved hands prior to invasion. This one... bung it in, crank it up, scrape! Ah well... her scales confirmed I am not as fat as I had expected. Now the really painful part - the wait for the results.
And the clinic carpark was an array of soft auburns! Tender hints of spring, peeking out of desolate branches, twisted with the cold, and filling with sap, ready to showcase Mother Nature in all her Spring glory. The brownness is now punctuated with flecks of green, accents of yellow and pale blue, dancing in the receding shadows, as the whole verge comes to life.
I stood and took some pictures while I waited for my car.
Rymes seem to be flowing freely from me at the moment. On my birthday, fuelled with champagne (3 whole glasses, how unrestrained), I banged out some bitter old words about an ex and some other black-edged stuff. Nothing materliased, but I had the buzz. I have it again today. One day I will finish that anthology, and all of this will be not idle chanking, but the outpourings of a frustrated genius. It's not angry anymore, it's just words, but they connect better and flow, with some fiddling. Don't get me wrong, they will never be happy by and large, but they are no longer bleak and nihilistic.
John Cooper Clarke I am not.
So what else is new? I cannot wait to go and see Pepe.... it has been almost four years and I have missed him like a slave heart misses democracy. Both of us have unravelled some of the knots, but the fundamentals remain the same. He was my Valentine's gift, in lieu of romantic love, and I would prefer him over forecourt roses and bad chocolate anyday. We have so much planned. There will probably be tears. Good ones.
One has sacked the bank, and is about to sack the other bank. Four long years of clerical errors and customer service that would make McDonalds blush, culminating in an order being posted three weeks late. They put a block on my card as they had spotted 'unusual activity' (I usually just like to look at money, but that day I had actually spent some) and put a block on my card in case I was being fraudulently fucked; I was not. And they did this without warning me first. Payments bounced. Charges were charged. Fuses have now blown.
Why can nobody do a job properly anymore?
Apart from Bill, that is. He remains my saviour, my sunbeam and my muse. Scrupulous attention to detail, utter sympathy and a real desire to please. This man should be canonised. I'm not even joking. Businessman Of The Millenium.
Four weeks today to the general election. I really, REALLY hope we have all done enough to cost Swivel-eyes any MPs. I am so very proud of everyone that works on our campaign, and alongside us - we are truly blessed with greatness. It is like being part of an awesome, large, clever, compassionate and selfless family. Our combined skills can get almost anything done.
In a little over five weeks, we will have been without The Father for three years. Three years. It doesn't sound right. In one way, it feels like yesterday, and in others, I feel I have done so very much in the past three years, it could have been a lifetime since he was here. I wonder what Vishnu's plan was for him, and where he is, and indeed who he is now. I wonder if he is finally able to see through the fag smoke and obstinacy and be proud of me. I am starting to be proud of me.
Little Man has now been dieting for a little over a month, and has his first weigh-in at the vet tomorrow. Dr P has left us and we are suitably devastated - we love Dr P. Or maybe just I do, and I am anthropomorphising Little Man some. I'm no fan of change. If one peers down upon him, ribs can be seen moving under the now lesser saturation of flesh. He has a nice little waist forming. We are aiming for 2kg off, so let's cross things that we are almost there?!
I really want to go to Cornwall. A British break, away from the noise and bustle of urban life would be most satisfying this year. No baggage halls, customs apes, stupid public, etc. I have run it up several peoples' flagpoles,and am waiting for salutes. Amsterdam Pride, of course, is on the August agenda.
Ah well, there's an update, of sorts. Perhaps tomorow I shall be more coherent, or possibly just more targetted. What matters is, I will soon be able to read the drafts to myself in my own voice - Tuesday I get the veneers fitted that will rid me of this ghastly speech impediment!