And, stop

It's great having john and sue over. The last couple of days have been a load of fun, and I've been doing a lot more than I usually do. That came to a halt today. I knew I was fucked and had to stop. They and Beth are out shopping at Easton, whilst Abbey and I chill out around the house. The signals were legs collapsing , foot drop, hands failing,  and a computer that still lies dead. Worth it? Every second.

Computer fuckery

Fuck. I know not why, but my computer has decided to join Steve Jobs in the sky. The keyboard is like a pissed old granny in a three legged race, all over the place, whilst getting nowhere. I'm typing on my iPad mini, which is giving off a "told you laptops were shit" vibe. Yeah, but it's easier to type on.
"Whatever.let me know when you want to get something done. You can get a keyboard for me you know...."
Oh. Bugger, Genius Bar it is.

Saturday night.

We had plans yesterday, the sky decided otherwise, as it poured like a bath throughout the afternoon / early evening.
"We can't watch anymore Pawn Stars"
We can, but Beth the Akala of the evening, wandered up to Thurmans and put our name down. I love Thurmans. and Easy Street, my local pubs. Relaxed, had  a laugh, ate until we went way beyond where we should have stopped. Shuffled home, food coma. Great evening.

Saturday.

Up. Coffee, banana. Syrupy outside, but I've got the Danny Baker show streaming, Great Saturday start. John and Sue got in from Chicago yesterday. We ate some great food we picked up at Thurns, a fantastic butcher, just down the road from us. Sat outside for a few hours chatting and laughing, realized we were all exhausted and crashed early. We are off to Comfest ktoday. Weather is looking to be sunny but brutal. Lets see how that goes. Fortunately, Beth and I live in a magic land of air-conditioned pubs, gently soothing the sweaty brow, whilst you get thoroughly pissed

Visit.

My uncle John and his good lady Sue, will be flying in later today, for a week. Can't wait. I haven't seen them since last year at Pawleys island, where I spent the week whacked out on very powerful sci-fi drugs, to fight the tri-neuralgic nerve pain I'd picked up. I'm a lot more together now and looking forward to taking them around Columbus. Comfest, the horse races, baseball, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and all the bars that I like. Actually, maybe a week isn't long enough...

Ginger Awakening.

I've been drinking iced ginger tea fir a few days now. I brew the tea, fill a glass with ice, pour in carefully-ish, and enjoy. Much like the reading glasses I now own, I've been asking myself, "Why on earth wasn't I doing this before?"
I have a history of not doing things that I know will be good for me. I now have a fitbit and walk 2 to 3 miles a day. Why wasn't I doing that before? I play my guitar everyday, for years I wouldn't even pick it up, "My hands don't work.." Bollocks. Turns out the more I play, the better I get.
Its really easy to settle into a habit of saying, "I would, but…." Waste of time. MS means that I rarely get called out,
 "Bless him, he's ill.." No. If I'm being an idiot, call me out. Ginger ice tea? Amazing.

Magooed

Every since I cheated on an eye test when I was five, looked with my good eye over the cardboard, my eye sight has been screwed. The Sunday dinner, burned in my parents memory, when I said
"Why is my right eye so blurry?" heralded multiple trips to the opticians, all of which ended up with them saying
"If you'd bought him here 3 years ago."
'He cheated on his eye test."
"Oh. Ah well…"
MS swoops in, pale discs behind the eyes, meaning that my eyes don't connect properly to my brain. Oh shit.
Prescriptions that turn sight into a cartoon contest. Fun, but useless.
Now I have the right prescription and reading classes, to offset the contacts, for close up work. Fantastic! This is what you lot see? Ooooh…. My eyes are still buggered, but they feel like the kid being let into the big room.

Anti Norm

I just found a song I thought I'd lost on garageband. I'll have to put the tune back together (remember it), I do like the lyrics a lot.

Warrior of the Anti Norm

Walk around town
I'm well fucking lairy
DM's, a Crombie
And a new Fred Perry
Everybody loves it
I fucking hate it
Its number one
I just don't rate it.

Walking around
Pouring bile and score
I'm the warrior of the anti norm

Here's my girlfriend
She's called Mary
Covered in tattoos
Well bloody scary
Everybody loves it
She don't like it
Number one
she thinks its shite tip

Hand in hand
Pouring bile and scorn
Lovers of the anti norm.

Here's my kids
Lucretia and Terry
Whiplash smart
Well bloody lairy
Everybody loves it
tThey both hate it
Number one?
Load of old fake shit

Arm in arm
Pouring bile and scorn
Happy family
Of the anti norm.

We walk around town
Well bloody lairy
DM'd, Crombies
New Fred Perrys
Happy so happy
Pouring bile and scorn
First family
Of the anti norm.

Promote? Alright.

My reverberation page has been offering me free promotion for a long time. I've always ignored it, I didn't feel i had enough songs up, and I figured it was a sneaky way to put me to get me hooked, so that I'd started paying. Right on both counts, though I now see the point of doing it. It will also force my hand, so that I finally record and put out the songs I've had for ages. I play all the time now, and feel ready to pitch.

Travule

Last night Yury and I went to the monthly improv drop in at theWild Goose. A load of people playing games, no pressure, everybody cool. Find. There is a weekly one st Gressos that humidity saw off last Thursday. I'm definitely going this week, it will be the last time I can go until the end of July. Turns out I'm going back to England a lot sooner than I thought.
 I'm going once I've bought a ticket. I'm beginning to figure that the price isn't going down, no matter hard I throw hope at the ticketing screen. For what?! Is the plane made of gold? It won't fly properly you know, weighed down under the shame of those vastly over charged seats. I remember when Beth and I first got together, when the choice was between a 400 pound ticket, or pitching in on Air India for a few hundred quid. Happy days.
"We didn't have all that new fangled in seat screen entertainment, but we was happy. You could keep your shoes and your jacket on going through security, no cock fiddling by the guards. Take some water with you, take your luggage on for free, heavy as you like, with no need to make weight like a boxer.
The planes are a lot nicer now though,  less like a 6 hours sweating cattle truck. Hmm. Send me a private plane, we'll call it quits."

Band-ology

I used to play in bands. I loved doing it, such a laugh,  and it didn't matter if it all went sideways, we were just building stories as we went. When my hands packed up I knew I had to stop. I thought I'd never do it again. I haven't felt my hands properly for over two decades,  so, no chance, right? Well, maybe.
The reason I stayed away from being in a band, was that I couldn't guarantee I was going to be able to play. But, if i write the songs and can pitch them, playing if can, just singing if I can't, that could work out, right? Having performed on my own doing my songs, I think they deserve a band to pitch them. I have no idea who, I just think it would be fun. Columbus is full of great musicians, Im sure I can get someone interested.

Song Sung Never.

Having walked outside, and been hammered by the humid, I decided to stay in. Yury came over with his new guitar and we began to write songs. Looking back, we didn't write one that was fit for public performance. Titles like Tooth Fairy, Disaster Train and No Child of Mine, don't really hint at the darkness that lies within. Good fun though!

Saturday.

Last night, having trudged through the soup, I got to spend the evening watching Pinter. I love Pinter and the run I saw at Betrayal was excellent. Watching people I know playing space and subtext that well, was a treat. 

Piled home with Yury, having picked up fried chicken and a pie. I would have just chucked the fried chicken in the microwave,for a soupy heat up. He put it in the oven, and crisped it up nice.

Up early, even though Beth and Abbey are in Illinois. Pavlov's dog my arse! That pooch has me trained to be up everyday, getting her breakfast ready, so I can be rewarded with an imperious wag of her tail. 

Today? I want to go to Hamlet this evening. I'm hoping for rain until 3 so I have half a shot at making it to the park in one piece. 

Coffee, banana, don't put Abbey's food out. Got it.

That's about right?

What I just thought is somewhat, awful, but it may work. I think that anyone voting against women's basic rights, usually health, usually fat old fucks who couldn't pull muscle, must wear a monitor. Catheter it in and measure the level of sexual thrill they get from preventing the basic. If the monitor flags the voter as as loving the No a little too much , pre and such? They will be fired, and put on an odd register. That should sort that bullshit out.

Weather Wanker.

This morning is moving at treacle trudging pace. Why am I up?  I don't want to be up in this weak, slow choke, morning air, though as I type, I can feel the coffee kicking in, making a little more sense of the day. I already kicked going to the improv last night, as it would have been difficult to turn up and perform, as unconscious as I was. Tonight, I want to go to Joe's play, though it depends on how long I can stay in today.
You humid, would be stormy, soup air wanker! Even  my pooch doesn't like you, and spends most of your days snoozing, waiting for the arrival of your way more popular cousin Temperate. Have a bit of a rain, sort your shit out.

Soup.

Yesterday the weather was brutal. Topped out around 93, feeling 95, and breathing through a blocked sieve. That was the day Beth and I decided was the day we should do lots. Tried to start my car, dead. I think it came out in sympathy.
"What on earth are you two doing outside? Go back in, the football and the the air conditioning are on."
With the help of our neighbour, got the car started. Went to my Optometrist and picked up the sample contacts, which I know are going to work out way better. Beth stayed in the car as we were running the battery back in. What next?
Hit the freeways, got a little lost, ended up at a car wash that Beth told me was great. She wasn't kidding. You roll the car onto a conveyor belt, stick it in neutral, and are taken into the future. This car wash is what the Jetsons promised. And?
 Jimmy Johns where they can make a really good sandwich, quicker than you can fill your drink. Home.  Football, air-conditioning and a very nice dinner.
This morning, out playing with Abbey before the apocalypse rolls in. I know its going to be bad, the weather people are doing everything but giggling and licking their lips over it.
Air? soupy but do-able. Am I still going for a haircut and improv this evening? You bet your soggy hat.

Bark-tacula.

Abbey come in! Its 4am and Abbey, groggy but fully engaged, is barking up a dream battle, at whatever smell it is she objects to, in the quiet of a very dark garden. She came in when I insisted that nothing was going on and that her epic early morning barking was reducing our popularity exponentially.
. She came in, headed straight for the couch and crashed out. I'm not convinced she was actually awake at all during any of this. I'm a bit embarrassed about the noise, but quietly impressed that she will stand her ground, conscious or not.

Recycle day you say? Bugger.

The recycle is emptied every 2nd Tuesday. You would think I'd be able to remember that, and put out my bin out the night before. You'd be wrong. This morning , as often happens, the sound of the recycle trucks emptying the bins over the road echoed through my house. Memory restored. Bugger! I've got about 5 minutes to sort this out, or the rubbish can take another 2 week holiday in my garage. Charging(? sort of) down the garden, trailing a dog who thought this must be time to play. Dog sat confused, sorry Abbey, and I bundled into the garage. A massively full, we'd forgotten to put the bin out a few weeks ago, recycle bin sat leering at me.
"Good luck with that," it seemed to say.
Grabbed the handle of the bin and rolled it out into the alley. The weather today is predicted to top 90 degrees, it appears to be starting with some aplomb. Rolled the bin across the alley into its "Empty me now please," space.
Back through the garage into the garden. Abbey sat looking at me.
"Play now?"
Sorry Abbey, having performed a bin move that was ticket worthy, I now need a glass of water and a sit down.
"Oh…"
She'll be passed out in an hour (90 degrees and rising), and can dream of running the garden, with someone quicker than me.

DI-saturated

I went to my Optometrist yesterday, to get my yearly bad/positive? news.
Bad,
"You know there is nothing we can do about your sights except hope for the best?"
Good,
"You can still see? That's me fucked in the sweepstake." (made that bit up)
My prescription has changed, so that the awful is balanced out a little better. And my new glasses look very cool. I then had my eye's dilated, pressure checked and went on my way, looking for somewhere nice for lunch. If you've never had your eyes dilated, you look like a manga cartoon character and you have to wear shades until it wears off. I found a really good American Korean restaurant, the owner is the old head chef from Barcelona and had a fantastic lunch. I left afterwards to head down to high st, The sky above me opened like a bath. Now soaked, sight dodgy at best, I kept walking in order to find a cab before I drowned. Cab found, home in time to get ready to watch the America game, which was great! Eyes have now shrunk back from cartoon level which is good, but I kind of like the look of horror they promote in the unsuspecting viewer.

Playing the cards I'm dealt.

When I was younger, all I wanted was to play in bands with my brother Kev. If I hadn't got ill, I'd be doing that to this day. Unfortunately my hands packed up and I had to think of something else. I'd done improv and really enjoyed  it, but I'd always wondered what doing stand up would be like.
I'm funny with my mates, must be a sign, right? No it isn't. Being funny around your friends is lovely but its not what stand up is. What you need is the ability to take public criticism from hundreds of people, whilst you are learning. Not so much a skill, more being determined, and a little touched.
Even after I knew I had MS I figured, I'll do this, 20 minutes of work a day? I'm in.  20 minutes a day my arse, once comedy has you, you work the whole time, even when you think you are not. Brilliant! I'll do this I thought, and got pretty good at it. MS comes in, comedy over.
Shit what now?  Well, I married the love of my life and moved to America. Good plan, great plan! And? Hmm..
I then read the audition notice in The Dispatch for Shakespeare in the park. I'm English, how hard could that be? Really quite hard, it turns out. Loved doing that, met loads of great people. I'll do this. MS comes in, acting over. Bugger! whats left?
Improv, music, writing and comedy. Outside of the killer neurological nightmare, I'm the luckiest fucker I know.

Monday

I am awake, having drifted through Sunday from awake to asleep to awake to asleep again like a dodgy plug on an old telly. I did get to see the Argentina game and watch Messi leaving other players in the dust, whilst he made up his mind where in the goal he wanted  to put the ball .Amazing, pure art.

I've now decided I am definitely going to write Friendly Fascist Alpha and perform it until  I have it right. Having talked to friends old, new, across the Sea and asked, " I'm not am I?" I now realise that I may well be. The show is going to take a look at all the reasons I've been given as to why I am the nice version of these terrible things. To be honest, it does make me smile. Rumbled again....

Bugger.

Come on England! Oh…..We got two more go's, right? following the game Stewart and I went out, ostensibly to buy some food. Bumped into Stella, my greek neighbour and we stood and commiserated for a while. Onto the food. well, onto the pub. Whisky fizz, food, and everything began to feel alright.

We then rolled back to the house. Stewart made some cookies, I fell asleep, then woke up convinced Beth and Abbey were in the house. They are in Illinois. Stewart left and I don't remember anything else, until I woke up this morning. Coffee on and in. Not the apocalyptic amount of yesterday, just enough to take the edge off the fizzy whisky hangover that I know is coming.

Come on England!! Buggeration….

Pre.

The coffee high has backed off a bit. Not enough that I've forgotten what I did, but a bit. England are up next, the game I've been waiting for all day. We're playing Italy. Oh. they're a good team. Going on what went on in the games today, anything can happen. I was asked to predict the score. I've got England winning 3-2, as long as Rooney turns up..

Coffee Driven

I’ve decided to write whilst the coffee high is still burning through my veins. I’ve got my iTunes on shuffle so I get to hear a load of tunes I love, that I may have forgotten I even own. I’m a colossal music nerd and download whatever strikes me as soon as I hear it. It means there artists I don’t think I’ve even heard of, all over my collection. 

Then the shuffle kicks in, I look at who it is, and remember why I downloaded the tune in the first place. This is why I want to learn how to put up a music podcast. I was looking at the instructions half asleep, pre coffee earlier and gave up. I think right now I’d just get it completely wrong, but have a great time doing it.

I just read this back. Blimey, thats rather rampy. Water?

Up and about.

 3 football games, fried chicken, mac and cheese and one beer equalled immediate early evening sleep. A good sleep, slumped happily on the couch, with the feeling of a day well served.
 Today, England play,  I still have fried chicken, beer, mac and cheese. Early night then. The chicken is from Giant Eagle and way better than I thought it would be. Well done semi large food store.
Ahead of the games? Yury and I will be jamming in my house. Music, football, food and beer. Perfect.

Friday

I'm on my own for the weekend. You would think I'd be planing on going out, doing loads of stuff. You'd be wrong. I get to play guitar, chill out in my garden, write and watch the World Cup. Perfect. Then, drink lots of beer, whilst watching England tomorrow. if there is any left after tonight.
Anything comes up, I'm probably going out. For now, fried chicken, mac and cheese, beer, and music.

Where I belong.

I'm up. i'm always up early. Coffee in, banana imminent. Listening to Shaun Keaveny on radio 6, which I blend with listening to the tragic news of the day on Radio 4 and 5. Tragic? What tragic news? Dunno yet, I just know its coming.
Spent last night doing improv at the weekly drop in. I love it. All levels, doesn't matter, everyone is there to play and learn. I know people think improv is the provence of those who can think very quickly. Its helpful, but that will only get you so far.
Improv never works with someone standing there proving how witty they are, whilst ignoring the other people on the stage. It works when the people on stage dump ego, and play entirely for the person they are with. If you are both doing it, its amazing what comes up. It doesn't matter what you thought you were going to do, if something else comes up. Dump the idea you brought on, and play what you are given. When it is in full flow, nothing better. If it tanks out? Can be just as, if not more funny, as long as you both commit and play everything for real.

Sea Change.

Coffee, banana, and a dog voyaging up and down the garden. Today is going to be great, the World Cup starts this afternoon, then I get to go to improv this evening. Started today, pre Abbey waking up, watching The Dresden Files, a fantastic show that didn't make it past the first series. I must have watched the series 4 or 5 times. It makes me feel how I did about Firefly getting cancelled, which was,

"Are you people fucking stupid? Cancel something that good whilst keeping drivel rotating on the screen like an un-flushable turd? House of what? Orange is the new black? See ya."

They sometimes get it right. With Netflix nipping at their heels,  the good old days of any old shit, are over. Similar to what the cab companies are looking at right now. 

"We can get a ride in 5 minutes? In a well kept, clean car? Oh.."

 I'm not referring to Black cabs in London, which I adore. Other than that, have at it.

Clocked.

My body clock does whatever it likes, always. I'm often up when most are asleep, or getting ready for work across the ocean. I love it. I spend the quiet times listening to music and reading. I would be playing my guitar, but there are others in my house that don't see sleep as optional as I do. Oh Si, bless,  is this MS?
No, I've been this way my whole life. Nothing pleases or surprises me more than when I actually get a good nights sleep. Having said that, I like how things are. The quiet of the night is full of ideas that are often drowned out by the noise of the day.

Hmm..

I reconstruct myself daily, by the hour, the minute, the second. Everything is in flux constantly. I wake with no clue as to how the day will play out. I may be ok physically, or not at all. Sounds horrible right? It is what it is.
I spent years worrying about how i was different to everyone else, that there were things that happened to me, no one could see, that I couldn't explain, that I had to react to immediately. I felt for years that I was letting people down, because I never knew when the full stop was coming, and sometimes called it too late.
I feel differently now. Happy to do whatever, for whoever, when I can. No guilt when I can't. I operate at my own pace, and will not be dictated to by anyone, ever. Too be fair, I was always like that. Its a little more legitimate these days....

Shore Leave.

The last three days, were. Don't remember much about them. Woke up, ate, sometimes went out, then...nothing for hours, until I woke up again. I think the humidity may have snarled up the blood change somewhat. It's calmed down now, I've got a less worse pitch to enjoy until early July, when I'll do it all again. I will keep doing it until my odds of disaster are so high that I have no choice but to  stop and try something else. Maybe they will have cured MS by then. They keep saying they've just about cracked it. Chinny reckon! You  still have not  a fucking clue.
I'll enjoy my time on the near normal shore while I can, then figure something else out.

Sleep-wrecked.

My weekend was washed away, submerged in sleep that I could not escape. I did some stuff, but sleep sat heavy at every turn, dragging me back down. I know I've written about it before, but MS fatigue does not  negotiate. There is no way out, other than accepting the inevitable, waiting for it to be over and washing up on the shore.

Sounds awful, right? Its annoying rather than awful. A bark on Saturday, as the weather was great and I wanted to be out and about. Sunday? Pissed down with rain most of the day, Sleep you say? I'm in, maybe Monday will be better.

Up really early, having covered enough sleep until Wednesday, Radio and papers it is. News, as ever, awful, with a small side order of art that I actually like. 

Today will do whatever it likes. I get the feeling its going to be alright, or not. Coffee.

Rain Dog.

Up. Coffee, banana. I think you can always tell the difference in my early morning posts pre-coffee. Somewhat jagged and a little rampy.
Abbey is now back in the house, having sat at the end of the garden in the rain until I bribed her in with a dog biscuit. Freshly toweled and fed, she's now wandering around the house, looking through the window every now and again, then back at me, shrugging.
"What the fuck is that all about ,human food provider?" she seems to say.
"I was out there too, I just didn't sit getting rained on, huffing that the water didn't belong in the garden. Of course it does, how is Beth supposed to grow the vegetables you steal with no rain?"
"Fair point. Get that towel back out, you've missed a bit."

Saturday.

6:16 I've been up for a while, listened to Kermode and Mayo's film reviews, my treat every week, either live on a Friday or podcast on the Saturday. Danny Baker isn't on this morning, so I'll have to rely on the BBC and Twitter for World Cup bollocks. The world cup is a week away. I'd love to tell you I don't care. truth is I'll be glued to the screen watching all the way through, even after
"Come on England!!"
 is but a hollow hopeful memory.
The art festival is this weekend, if I can get myself in one piece Beth and I will be walking around looking suitably interested. There is always really good art at the festival, but as so often happens, the mediocre bleat a lot louder.
Mediocre bleating is endemic everywhere.
 A terrible idea can be moved to the normal, by dint of an unimaginative repetitive pitch hurled from the stands. People who have genuinely interesting ideas worry over them, and work until they are finally prepared to let them breath out into the public sphere. Every now and again I find something I adore, that I didn't see coming. Of course no mediocre, no contrast. You can't know somethings great, until you know the pile of shit it pulled itself from. Coffee.

Build.

I just watched Stewart Lee explaining how he came up with the show I'd just watched, Carpet Remanent World. I really enjoying watching comic's discussing the craft of what they do. I am a colossal nerd, and will happily listen to someone picking apart the mechanics of a show, for hours.
I walked away from stage acting in the last few years, probably for good. It doesn't suit the MS. I was telling my friend Stewart it was a shame, but never mind. He said,
"Your heart was never really in it Si."
I disagreed at the time, but now I think he may have been right. I really enjoyed acting, being around people who were completely consumed by it, working hard to build the best show they could. I was pleased that I did ok, and I liked learning how it was done. Then, I knew it was over. There was no way I could physically pitch as I knew was necessary. I was pissed off for a while and didn't go back on stage for 2 years.
Then, I saw Joe Teeters was running a monthly improv drop in and I went to that. It took me less than a minute to remember how much I loved doing comedy. There is a drop in once a week, around the corner from me. I intend to go to it as much as I can. I still can't do stand up as much as I would like, but I think I may be able to write a show that I can do in a small theatre.
You were right Stewart, comedy is where my heart has always been. Thank you to all the actors I got to work with over the years. When I get a show together, you can come and see the techniques I learned from you / stole.

Serene Oddity.

I know its early, but I did get a magnificent kip as the drug I infused yesterday, slid into my blood last night. I know today is a wash as the the drug settles, jostling for position against the MS attack. The attack never stops, Tysabri,sits as a doorman in my blood,
"Well you're not going in for a start!"
 From Saturday, until it runs out in 28 days, life is going to be a lot better.  My nervous system will do its best, helped out by my plasma gatekeeper.
I've done this once a month for nearly 2 years, the time when the danger is supposed to rear up with abandon, forcing an immediate exit. I was told yesterday that I'm still doing ok, odds shorter, but far enough from lethal to carry on. Fair enough, my MS was supposed to fall off the cliff into progressive doom more than 12 years ago. My doctors look at me sometimes, shrug and say,
"You're still in one piece? Hmm….alright then…"
Happy to be baffling.

Morning.

Wendys turned into a Woody Allen burger from Easy Street, at midnight. Ate that, fell asleep. I'm now awake. It is 4am. Bugger.
I get to see in the dawn, which would be much better viewed from a beach, looking out over the horizon. The cars passing do sound like the tide, if you don't listen too hard. The radio is still playing BBC World Service. Its lovely, like I'm on a holiday listening to  the news from home. Its all bad, but the voices lull you in, murmuring about the end of the world, whilst I drink my first coffee of the day. Its now crossing to more abrasive American and I have to bail, before the experts, who know fuck all, start mincing on about money and war. Coffee.

No sleep til bedtime.

I've managed to avoid passing out today,  I will actually be with it when I  go to the infusion suite tomorrow. Truth be told, I only have to make it to the chair. Once the line is in I sleep, then wake up surprised it was all over so quickly.
The day has been quite useful, medical calls that worked out, and the rain that didn't turn up until now. It is bath like out there. No coat / umbrella can cope with that.
 Castle is on, Wendy's later, then I'll sleep when I'm supposed to, for once.

If it was easy..

Up. Coffee on, dog fed, rubbish out. I played with her in the garden . Very nice weather, with the coming storm sitting in the background, an unhappy aunt, waiting to torpedo Xmas dinner. The news reports, as ever, abysmal. This is wrong, this is oh so wrong, eight shades of awful descending.Whatever shall we do? Of course if they sort out all fixable problems, no news.
Today is the last day I get to spend pretty much house bound this month., The infusion is tomorrow, that'll help sort things out, right? Well, once the supercharged blood settles. Every month is the same, pootle about with a strong streak of useful lethal running through my veins, then get pissed as it wears off. If you can avoid ever doing  this, I recommend never having to find out why I think its so great. Not simple, but if it was easy..etc...

And repeat.

Where I live has hidden weapons carry. This means that any mini-dicked personality void can swagger about, pretending he's the answer. He doesn't actually know what the question is, other than,
"Why do they always leave me? Why am I still living in my mum's basement?"
It's because God has a plan, you're not in it.
The radio just played a program on how people where not getting enough drugs to help out with the pain of their imminent death.We like to discuss the awful, constantly.
 I don't think we have the drug adverts they show here in England yet, where the benefit is far out weighed by the potential downsides they go through in every ad. If you're unlucky the anti dry age vaginal cream commercial will come on, just as you are trying to swallow your morning yoghurt. I'm not making that one up, and I had a mouthful of cherry.
The world appears to be stuck in a loop, repeating shit ideas we know don't work, though I'm sure the cream is a doozy.

The drugs that work.

There was  a story on NPR about a new pill which is working well in MS. Women who have MS recover significantly whilst they are pregnant. The pill, ignored by drug companies, no profit, is a mass induction of Estrogen which is working really well. Great news for the girls, somewhat worrying for the boys. I'd like to walk and stuff, but do I need to carry my new boobs with me? I'm sure this is not the case, right?
Having heard the story I went back and read about the drug I'm taking, Tysabri. I don't know why I look. I know how dangerous it is, and I'm going for my infusion Thursday anyway. Good luck with the Estrogen, there are so many more women with MS than men, about time you caught a break. I'll stick with infusion confusion, you never know,  they might find a cock based pill next. Hang on….

Monday.

Yes the coffee is burbling away. Yes its 3am Monday morning. Yes the pooch is still passed out on the floor.  And yes, I am awake.Why has the week started so early? No idea.
 Is it bad to have already had 2 slices of toast? No, they were nice, and very necessary. Is my body clock somewhat fucked? What do you think?
Coffee ahoy.

Sundaze

Its a beautiful morning. I got to see it develop,  as Abbey had me out running, well she was running, since 6am. I'm still screwed until Thursday, but I do get to chill out in the garden until then. Sounds great, if a bit limpy.
 Its not me I feel bad for. Having seen him on Oprah's channel last night, and listening to him on the radio now, the one I feel bad for is Rick Springfield.
 He has to sing that song, Jessie's Girl, forever! You could see it in his eyes whilst on another stage last night,  a never ending trudge towards the song that will not let  him go. He does sound happy about his book though. And that song is really catchy, a happy vice, twisting your ear and brain under the positive boot of its power.