Good Night / Early Morning.

Last night Beth and I left the house in order to go to the shops. Cant remember what for. We saw our neighbours Aaron and Brittany sittingg on the their front porch with their new baby, week old today. The were with a neighbour I hadn't met yet Justin so Beth and I wandered up to say high. Two bottles of champagne and mimosas ahoy later, we rolled home.
Dinner? We had stuff in the house, but Thurmans is just up the road. Lets go there. So we did. Beer and food ahoy. Not quite sure when we came home, I do know I made it to bed.
 I've been going to Thurmans for years. I know everyone and I'm very comfortable there. As local pubs go, winner.
Up early as usual with a nagging hangover lying in wait at some time or other. Coffee.

New song lyrics

I just came up with this in my front room. Tricky to play, but it'll work. This is what I have so far, so I don't forget.

Walking down the road
Everything's a blur
I've drunk too much
feeling quite absurd

Lean on the wall
But its moving
Head spins out
Now I'm spewing

Don't know how to stop
But all I want is you.

Grumble Wake.

I'm up. Crap, its only 2:40 or so. why am I up? A bizarre dream that woke me up with one of those "really?" moments. Puttered about a bit, put the Sean Keaveny show on Radio 6, and am now deciding when to put the coffee on. Soon I think.
Last night watched one of those dancing with the stars sorts bleat on about how she just wanted to do her best and keep everyone happy. The comic in me came to the worst conclusion.
She represents the sort of "come on everyone, be happy, its for the greater good!" that you avoid like the plague during wartime. They are the first to chuck thinkers under the invading forces bus, then stand around sniffing into a tissue with a sad face, whilst the ink on your death warrant dries.
Coffee right?

The way back.

Up until a month ago I hadn't been on stage performing for 2 and a half years. I thought I must be done, acting was certainly over and I couldn't see my way back to doing stand up again. I thought I was being sensible, that the performing I loved didn't suit my MS at all.
Then I dropped into the improv jam Joe runs once a month. After 5 seconds I remembered how much I loved improv and I saw my way back in. Columbus is full of really good improvisers and I get to play as I wish. Thanks Joe, you've made a performer who thought he must be done very happy.

Going Sarf!!

Having spent a Saturday circling the MS plughole, Beth and I grabbed a cab and went to Ross' party. The cab ride was a hoot, spent explaining the different sounds of the accents in London to the cabbie. He was a particular fan of "Sarf London!" I told him to get hold of Attack The Block, the London accent primer.

The party was great, got to sit around chatting with people I really like and, it turns out, have known for years. This has dawned on me over the last few months. I've been here for ages. Its really worked out. I love living here. I'll keep my accent thank you very much and I'll fit in as the English always do. Sort of.

Went from the party and stopped at the Hey Hey where a good mate of mine Amy, who has bailed to Boston was in town for the weekend. Having got nicely toasted at Ross' do, the Hey Hey went somewhat over the edge into utterly trashed.

 Morning has arrived, nothing missing, in one piece. Win.

Slide.

The weather is fantastic. Gorgeous afternoon, low wind, just right. I was up very early this morning, listened to the Danny Baker show, coffee, banana, cereal, and prepared for the day. The Everton game was on, top morning start! Everton lost, 2-0. they scored both the goals.
Thats the last thing I remember until 3pm when I stirred again. My eyes were marooned in sleep and had no interest in dealing with the day. I knew this was bad, so I ate some toast for lunch and marched up and down the garden until I woke up. I know good weather is great for most, for MS rapid change is appalling and causes immediate coma. Not today. Slide stopped, for now.

Ear Elixir

I often wake up very early. I spend my time chilling out, reminding Abbey we are hours from her breakfast and reading the english newspaper that I have delivered to my kindle. I used to have the Guardian and the Independent delivered, I now get the Telegraph, right wingy, but a good read. The Chicago Tribune comes in a little later.
 I make a pot of coffee, eat a banana and wake up, settling in to the day.
What makes this transition easy, is that I listen to English radio every morning.  I enjoy the Shaun Keaveny show on Radio 6, which is on until 5am over here. I then skip between radio 4, 5 and 6, until NPR stops waffling on about money issues which they don't understand. NPR has fantastic shows on the weekend, but it does tend to punt out the same old shite in the week.

Jamaica Binned.

I read yesterday how a new production of Jamaica Inn, which was highly anticipated, was just shown in England and failed. The complaint was that  it couldn't be heard and was a mumbling mess. Yesterday the blame lay with the sound techs. Today the actors are blamed, one in particular, "just mumble and we cannot understand a word."
Its the worst thing that can happen to any performer. If you cannot be heard, it doesn't matter how hard you try. I don't know who is really to blame, outside of the sound editor, who should have caught this before it hit the air.What I do know? Never blame your  front end technical people..

Killed by Merit.

"What a good idea!"
"I hope he stays with it."

"Where's Derek? Haven't seen him for a while."
"You know, working on the dream."
"Oh yeah, how long is that now?"
"Quite a while, but he's nearly there."
"Great, hope it all works out."

"Whats up Lee? You look terrible."
"Its Derek. Vultures came for the idea."
"I know. He made a lot of money though."
"The deal he made meant he couldn't work on his dream any more."
"Oh."
"Yeah. turns out he couldn't live with that."
'Oh no."
"Mmm.."

NPR Morning prattle.

NPR Every morning its the same. You go on about money like you know what its all about, and as if it matters. Shut up. As has proved over and over, no one has a clue whats going to happen with money, apart from the people defrauding and stealing it. The one thing I do know is that if someone guarantees over a 10% yearly return on your investment? Thats a ponzi scheme, good luck with that. The other thing I know? People are greedy and stupid enough to fall for it every time.
Please go back to talking about the plane you can't find,you're giving me a headache. Though that might be a slowly creeping hangover...

Friendly Fascist Alpha.

I give in. My Dad said to me once,
"You  do know you are a are a fascist Si?"
"I am not"
"How do you feel about idiots, and people who think they have it when they don't?"
"Oh. Hang on, fascism is horrible isn't it?"
"Intolerant of fools Si."
"Oh."
He then paused, drank deeply and nodded  his head in a sage like fashion.
In fairness my Dad did hear me say once, "I wouldn't invite that cunt to his own funeral." He may have had a point.
My friend Mikelle  pointed out to me, after I'd ranted against Alpha tossers
 "You know you are one right?"
"Of course I'm not!" I spluttered.
This weekend I have had 5 really good friends nod and shrug, when I brought up my defense.
"You're one of the nice ones Si."
"Oh."
As a good friend of mine Philip pointed out, "In the end Si, you have to admit what you are."
"Oh…."
Friendly Fascist Alpha it is.

Saturday.

The day is lovely,I spent most of this morning in the garden playing with my pooch. The Chelsea match is about to start, and I'm quite happy to slump in front of that for a couple of hours. I'm happy, she is not. Abbey, its Saturday and they show a load of matches over here. I missed most of the ones that played earlier, so….WOOF. Oh. I'm gonna watch it anyway. Bleat, soft woof, SMASH!
What happened there? You stay in the garden, I'm going out the front. Cool chat with Paul and Fran, still no idea what happened. Back to the house, let Abbey in, football still on. nice.

Harvested.

Spent the afternoon with Beth and Sue eating and drinking at Harvest. Fantastic pizza, top cocktails and the feeling that we may have started trashing the day out early. Now typing, with the sneaking suspicion that I have a hangover that doesn't belong in the light coming.

Edu Slump.

The job market for graduates in England is poor. This means those spending their time at university, which they now have to pay for, will come out with debt they have little chance of covering anytime soon, if ever. The question that everyone is beginning to ask, "Is it worth it? Where's all the money going?"
The American system is way more expensive. Does it provide a better education? No it doesn't. What it does do is let you see where your money is going. Nice buildings, stadiums and such. The idea that having no degree severely limits your job prospects. This for a job you have to get, to pay off the vast  amount of debt you've accumulated.
 What's happening in England now would change the college charges in America. England has taken a look at a system of perpetual debt, with few jobs available and the prospective sudents are starting to decide they are not interested. I wonder how long it will take the government to work out that bleeding people into debt in England doesn't work, unless its for a really nice telly.

Amen d

Having eaten the box of take out shame for lunch yesterday, my day then took a trippy, sleepy turn. When asked what I wanted for dinner, I said, "A salad," figuring I'd better chill the burger doom out. A fantastic taco salad arrived. Its the last thing I remember about yesterday. Up now knowing this day is going to be super long, and its all my own fault.
Why not go back to bed Si? MS dictates if I'm up, I'm up, until fade says otherwise. Does mean that I'm up to catch the early morning shows on Radio 6, and I get to read the english papers early. I was having the Guardian and the Independent sent to my Kindle. Dumped them both and started booting the Telegraph. I've known for years that I liked the writing in the fusty, dusty tome. Even their more right wing commentary makes me think, "Bless…" Today they have David Cameroon discovering he was an evangelical after all. Bull shit posh boy, take the loss that's coming and depart.

Thurmanned.

Up. I'm up. It's 4:06am. I went to Improv Wars with Yury, which was great, a lot of fun. Would I recommend it for all the family? Depends on wow relaxed your family is. Mine would love it.

Yury and I then looked for somewhere for dinner, and ended up at Thurmans. I ordered food that scared me when it turned up. It sat as a tower of yummy doom in front of me, daring the eat. I did try, as did Yury. As we were not ordering for 10, we  both left with boxes of uneaten shame. I can sense my box in the fridge, daring me to rejoin the fray. 

I adore Thurmans. Its just down the street from me. Packed to the gills during the day, the Man versus Food effect, it chills out as the evening wears on. Did I order the Thurman burger? No, though the cousin that turned up was just as frightening. Coffee.

Sugar Voodoo

I just read a story in the Daily Telegraph about a study about the role of sugar levels in relationships, and how dieting to save a relationship is wrong, The way this was studied was by giving couples voodoo dolls of each other and having them stick up to 51 pins in them at the end of the day, depending on how they felt about their partner. The lower the sugar levels the more prevalent the doll poking.What college of make up nonsense  studied this horse shit? Ohio State University. Oh...

Winter Trip.

Its going to snow tomorrow. Snow. Fucks sake, its April. My body has come out against the winter relaunch and I can remember little of what happened this afternoon. The morning was great, then the slow crawl back to winter awful began to set in. I do remember putting the film A Field in England on. The film is trippy as you like, perfectly suited to mentally seeing off a shitty weather day. Would I watch it on my own late at night? Hmm….

Tuned Up.

My sleep patterns are at best somewhat fragmented. MS makes its mind up when sleep is immediate, and when its a distant dream that can't be reached. Having passed out for a while earlier, sleep is now a far off land that would be lovely to visit, though I can't remember the way there. its been this way for years, I didn't think it was odd until people started asking me, "when do you sleep exactly?" The answer is, when I can.
When awake, riding the darkness until dawn, I spend my time looking for music. You can always tell if I've had a sleepless night, by how much I've posted on Facebook. I always start with a tune that strikes me, then look for progressions, until iIfeel I've resolved something or other. Its my addiction, The type of music doesn't matter, it just depends on what strikes me first. I am a huge nerd. The sign that my MS has moved from generally shit to a period of fuck awful, is when I'm not listening to music.
I want to do a music podcast, I've no idea how, but I think it would be fun. I'm nearly back to where I can play again, as my hands seem to be working. Best get to it.

Morning

This morning is going much as I thought it would. I vaguely remember Django. He killed a lot of people, they seemed to deserve it. Abbey waited for a while, she may have been bleating and I didn't hear her. I know, now up, we've been playing the games we usually do, with one participant looking down at the floor mumbling, "Bugger, I knew it. Hangover it is." Abbey is patient, she lies now looking at the toy i will soon I will be throwing. Implacable, throw it I definitely will. Coffee.

Best Use

Having walked a lot yesterday I  came home and crashed in front of the TV.  I was looking at an early night. Then I got a call from Beth, met some very nice neighbors, drank beer with them, rolled home, ate late and am now watching Django Unchained. Best use indeed. Tomorrow/ today should be interesting.

Use.

This year my walking has become a lot better. It has taken time, but I can now walk further than I ever thought I would be able to. It doesn't mean that my walking is perfect, I still live with a constant sense of adjustment, and the knowledge that I am one missed dropped foot from a fall. My time walking has to be watched as my energy, when its up, is totally gone. And, its alright.
 I'm healthier than I have been in years, within the parameters I've been given. Best use that then.

Donut Phaze.

Beth and I went to Explorers' club last night, which is currently offering a Hawaiian menu. Well worth a visit, the food is great. We had the donut special to finish. We came home.I must have wandered upstairs, then I woke up early this morning. The first two days following an infusion is always a bit trippy, but these donuts pushed it over the edge. Highly recommended.
Now listening to Ben Klock's DJ set at the Boiler Room in Berlin. I know its all blibs and blobs, but it entertains the shit out of me.
Donut apocalypse aside, I think my blood has settled in. It even looks like its going to be a nice day, apart from the rain..

Morning Keen.

Yes I'm awake. Stop keening Abbey, breakfast/back garden escape is imminent. Yes I'll play the game where you hide your toy and I search the downstairs to find it. As I said, no keening. I've almost got the throw from the kitchen door perfect. It should fly straight, so she can catch it and head into the garden.
I still have the sleepy random chucks to deal with. Today is not as bad as yesterday when the toy bounced off the walls and vanished into the dark. I do this every morning. Its the best way I can think of to start the day. Don't tell her, she's got the drop on me enough as it is.

Blood Border.

The day following my infusion is always interesting. I can actually feel my blood adjusting, letting the Tysabri settle in for another month of preventing the advance of the MS attacks , which never cease. MS is progressive and cannot be cured, only slowed down. The situation I am in now is an uneasy truce, risk versus certain awful. I have no idea how long I will be able to keep the peace, but it does't mean I will not keep trying. I know exactly what's coming the second I give in. I'm not that keen on living there. So I stand guard, assessing what I need to do, and what I want to do. After two decades on patrol I find understanding the full level of risk energizing, and that it leaves a lot more room for what I want.  

Infusion Day.

Joe and I had breakfast at Scramblers, excellent.I  had yogurt and fruit, with a cranberry juice. The chocolate muffin didn't help, but it was delicious. On to the infusion centre, where I sat in a nice comfy chair,  got expertly stabbed, then lay back as my monthly blood barrier was loaded in. Spent my time listening to tunes.
Then, the hour following infusion, where they check you're not going to drop dead. Moved on to watching gigs of bands I really like on YouTube. Drank coffee, ate some sweets and chilled out.
Hour done, Beth picked me up. She'd taken my computer in for a new battery, and came with an arsenal of food. Cool. Now a little fuzzy, which always happens after infusion. I think I'll have a nap.

3am Paternal.

I was asleep. I'd gone to bed early, as today is infusion day. Its the day, every month where I have a dangerous but highly effective drug, wired into my blood stream.The difference this drug has made is spectacular. I started taking it as my options were do it, or spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair. Hmm, I'll take the risk. I started doing it 2 years ago, and my walking has been building back up to, well, not normal, but certainly doable. I've got a fitbit thingy, and walk 2 miles plus a day.
Hooray for me. Why am I up?  A squeaking dog who needed to go out. She bleated at me until I arose. She's now crashed in the kitchen, as if nothing happened.  I have a breakfast with Lusher at 9:30 am. I'm now peppy and ready. Bugger. Coffee.

Abyss Fitness

Having saved bye to a good nights sleep sometime ago, then watched stuff online about disastrous drug epidemics, I finally landed on iTunes and the Pixies. I love the Pixies, I saw their last performance in London at the Brixton Academy in 1989, just ahead of the first spilt. Amazing gig.
Now that I know that Meth and turbo amphetamines are a bad idea, what next? I know, preorder the new Pixies album, boot a best of, as I've lost the cd's in the garage somewhere, and start exercising.
MS exercise is a little different to the norm. I'm never quite sure how hard Im pushing towards shut down, I know things are taking a turn when my walking turns to balancing on a ship in a storm, or if I've really fucked up, a plane in terrible turbulence.  This morning, a ship on a relatively calm sea, though the clouds were gathering.
I'm past 2000 steps, in my house, as I'm guaranteed to tank it out on the road, so, not bad. Maybe I can kip now?

Sleep Defeat.

The voyage to the sleepy side of the street has proved,thus far, to be somewhat not. I can still have a biscuit and think about how good a sleep would be, whilst viewing that possibility at a distance. I've always had trouble sleeping. Since I started blogging some of my friends have asked me, "When do you sleep exactly?"
 I do hit MS pass outs quite often, but I don't think they count. I have suffered full on insomnia for a month and a half once, which was amazing. I lived in a state of vague awareness until it finished. I did a comedy gig during that time that I have little memory of at all, except I'm fairly sure it was shit.
I don't dream that often. I always enjoy when I do.  Odd or not, its nice to be involved.
MS puts me in a constant state of the other, as I have to assess how real what is happening around or to me, actually is. For example, I often feel like I'm walking on a boat, out on the waves, though I can see the ground before me. I'm always aware of my surroundings. as my body will fail at any given time. You would think this is exhausting and sleep must come easily. Not so I have noticed, though the ever changing world around me is scary, but fun.

Phoenix Descent.

I just woke up. New day! No, its still the same day I thought I'd left. Bugger.
But I'm awake, what now? Slipping back into the land of nod is not really in my skill set. I know, I'll look around for something to read, that'll do it. Really? It never has before. Hmm, late night jog? As if. Bit of a think and a look for something interesting to watch? Ooh, that sounds good. Can I have a biscuit? I am awake after all. Snack, and a bit of a think. I can feel my eyelids closing already. Perfect.

Busted

It begins with my basketball brackets crashing, exactly one second before victory. I had Wisconsin for the win, Had the three pointer dropped, I'd have won the bracket I bet in. It was a fair amount, so I saluted it, as it died. Great game though.
Then an advert. It began with
"My son Roman."
"Roman?  That kids school life is going to be shit, and its your fault!"
Advert continues. "Who needed a new heart, at the age of only two."
Ah.
Hang on. He's got a dodgy ticker, and you called him Roman? Double whammy of shite.
"Give us some money." Advert ends.
Adverts for drugs they just made up. Get fucked.
Listening to Radio 6. The Beach Boys. 3:18 am. Sleep busted.

Tears of a Cloud

Late last night, after Beth and I had come home from a top dinner at Easy Street, the weather realized how well it had done during the day. It began softly weeping with joy. This has developed into a huff. The tears of joy have become droplets of serious regret whilst I slept. Hopefully the joy of yesterday will return, or the door shall remain shut, until the clouds behave themselves with a little more dignity. Coffee.

Push Pull

The weather has decided to stop sulking. The afternoon sunny, not cold and behaving herself very well.   This means my MS perks up, "Thats a quick temperature change, best get in and start ripping you up a bit." Like a bully stealing a child's brand new lunch box his mum gave him that morning. Wanker.
The child quietly plots how to get the bully back. Don't worry, karma is around for a reason. Those who made peoples lives hell at school, fail, and are usually left in the dust of a failed existence, that eats at them until they die. MS is more like that relative, who always turns up and ruins happy social events. Karma a little trickier here, they just will not die. Best to aim for detente.

Pinch Punch

April 1st. Spring still lagging behind, like a kid who never wanted to go to the shops anyway. Clouds sulking, wind not cooperating, The hopeful sun cajoling for change.
"Come on lads, it'll be great!"
"Whatever, we like the cold better."
"You are ruining the year for everyone else."
"They chucked their crap all over the house first."
"Ah, fair point. Fuck 'em, Narnia it is."