Souper..

We are now a little way into the new century. We have learned absolutely nothing, and are repeating every mistake we ever made. The difference now, is that we live live in a vast technological soup, where we can fill our ladles with electronic shite, and drown our sorrows for a time, whilst we do very little. 

Actually, there is a lot of good coming out of the soup. The problem is, that its coming at us so fast that the old us can’t keep up, and heads back to playing games, and marveling at good cats and dogs are on camera. It has always been this way. The printing press took a while to gain a foothold, porn first, ideas later. Sex and ideas are always seen as dangerous, and are suppressed, until it becomes obvious that they may not have been that bad after all. There are always those who like to close their minds, and live in in a bubble of bollocks. The problem has always been the same, they insist that you have to live there too, or die. 

This shall pass, with a few decades of post bullshit review, when we all get to shrug our shoulders and say, “what the fuck was all that about?” Years will pass, someone will remember why they are really upset about something that hasn’t happened yet, and bubble bollocks will resume. Enjoy the good bits. Aren’t those cats and dogs clever?!

Early morning dog alert.

Abbey came upstairs just after 3am, and bounced around the bedroom in a hissy fit. After I'd woken up enough to know what was going on, we went out to the garden for a while. She is now a lot happier, and has gone back to sleep again. I, on the other hand, am now awake. I've done my property tax, early for once, I'll miss those lovely phone calls,and I'm now looking for something else to do. Hang on, cancel that. Turns out that writing this blog was more than enough. Bed then.

Wiped Musing.

Today is another day which starts with me knowing I am wiped out, and that the day will not get any better. Its been like this since Sunday. its not like being a bit sleepy, its the moments when I can feel that nothing is working at all, and that the day is going to get dusted. Its always scary, as my thoughts  ten to turn in, and sit there muttering, "Is this it?"
 It probably isn't, and I'd put money on the fact that its just another shit storm sent to fuck with me. If you met me during these days, you probably wouldn't see it, as I expend whatever energy I can muster into covering it up. This  makes it invisible, and causes people to say what everyone who has MS hates,  "But you look so good.!"
 Its my fault, as I don't ever want to be judged on what people cannot see is happening. Its also not fair to quietly fume about how fucking ignorant these twats are. People with MS cover  up everything that they can, and are then surprised when no one realises what's really going on. Or, we just think we are dealing with a shit pit of wankers. Its a close call. Well, it is for me.

Sunday.

I didn't really wake up today, having spent the night drifting without sleeping. Sunday is always fun, Radio 6 has lots of great shows on, and On The Wire 's new program comes out. It makes up for the unexplainable twisted ankle, which is one of the many treats that MS shares out, when it feels that I'm doing too well. Never mind, I get to hobble down to watch Once later today. This week has been nicely arty, reading, listening to a lot of music,  and Captain Blood on Friday with Joe and Lucas, which was lots of fun. All I have to do now is stay in one piece ,and find something else to do. MS seems to go through cycles of allowing me to do what I want, and then shutting things down, this time for 4 years. Sounds like a lot, but it has happened to me before, like when I had to stop performing in England. Its no surprise that I would feel the same thing, having had to dust acting. Its not that I haven't done anything, with the drug treatment, life has become a lot easier. I'm just not sure where to risk my health  next.

Wash-bored.

The last week or so has been a wash. The weather keeps cranking up towards the sort of heat that would drive you from the beach to the air-conditioned bar, where drinks and crap telly await. MS keeps peeking over the  burning hill, takes a deep breath,  and then mutters, “Best sleep that off, eh? “ and shuts everything down. Bugger. Having said that, the dreams have been great. I say this, not as a precursor to boring the life out of anyone reading, but because I didn’t dream at all for two decades. I only started dreaming again in the last year or two. 

Its great innit? Nightmares aside, I get to walk around with none of the problems that fuck me over whilst I’m awake. I know too much sleep is bad, but it is a lot of fun.

Reviews:

Bedsit Disco Queen Tracey Thorn.  This memoir is so good, I got her follow up Naked At The Albert Hall, immediately after I'd finished it.

Daredevil. Didn’t watch it for ages. I don’t like superhero bollocks. I was wrong, this is great!

Would You Rather? Horror film on Netflix. Cack.

And , I did describe an arsey bloke as, “Two cocks shy of a smile.”