Post Morning.

The day after my monthly infusion is always interesting, as the Tysabri and my blood spend their time merging together, preparing to fight the good fight. Yesterday the blending  knocked me out, and I woke up in a chair I don't remember sitting in, at 3am. At this point the drug / blood blend seemed very happy, and I was propelled  from a coma to ultra awake. What to do?
The dogs helped me out, as they were very interested in going out to the garden for a while. I went to my kindle, intending to download an English newspaper, which I do every morning. Having tried them out, I think I like The Independent the best. I still boot the Observer on a Sunday, The Times every now and then, and the Telegraph when I'm feeling a bit grumpy, but very prepared to be pleasantly surpassed at how good some of their articles are. I didn't download any of them this morning. I took a look at Kindle singles, went through the interview section, and downloaded an interview with Errol Morris. Excellent.
Whilst I was watching the trailer for the new series Ash v The Evil Dead, Beth called out,
"Si, the Pope's on." Like a good home grown Irish Catholic, I went to watch the speech. It was really something. I do like Pope Francis, his message  positive,  and you can hear the buttocks clenching in the Congress from here. He might be a nice amiable  old duffer, but he just called you out.
Then, back to The Evil Dead trailer, and the Errol Morris interview.
Day quite trippy, but the weather's nice.

Rise and Fall Victory.

I spent this morning listening to Jeremy Corbyn's first run at Prime Minister's Questions, after his landslide victory in the Labour leadership election. He started off changing the tone, from a room full of baying over-priveleged chinless wankers, into a room where the public's questions actually got aired. I know that people were complaining afterwards that he wasn't combative enough, and that it was a like seeing a government version of question time. He has members of his own party stating that he has to be out of power by the next election, or Labour will fail miserably. As opposed to last time?  Anyone who can confound the odds, win, and settle the posh mob for a while, has got my vote.
After I listened to the PMQ, I went to Amazon prime music and listened to the new Fall album Re-Mit. What I love about the Fall is that there are no comprises to trend or taste made, ever. You have to listen your way in, and follow the dark path that Mark E Smith lays out before you. Some have said that the Fall now sound like a bad cover version of a once great band. They are wrong. What is happening, is that he truly doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks any more; not that he ever did. There are some top tunes in there, get digging. This also gets my vote.

Trip.

Just back from Illinois, where we went to a great wedding. Outdoors on a perfect day, friends I've known for ever to knockabout with, a bucking bull that turned out to be a load of fun, great band, great food, top notch.
Sunday I got to ride in a Model A from 1931. Having been worried about getting into it at all, I got to pootle about while everyone waved as we passed. A reverse queen if you will.
Monday we travelled back unto Columbus, stopping off to see Beth's aunt Gladys on the way. She's really good fun, and wants t make sure you get every fact of the stories she is telling you, absolutely right. Got home, house in one piece. Win.
Today, having started out cold, is warming up quite nicely.

Release.

This week I renewed my Green card. We'd applied to do it back in August, as my present card runs out  next January. My appointment was on Friday at 11am. We turned up early, about 10:30, and my card was ready and we were walking out of the door by ten to eleven. It was only after getting this done, I realized how nervous I'd been about it for the past few months. Rationally, I knew there was no problem, but this didn't stop me quietly worrying that is was all going to go tits up. I think I was nervous because renewing the card was something that I had to get done, and the playful parts of my sub conscious decided to have a bit of a laugh, playing me different versions of the disaster which could occur. Lovely. Now, do fuck off. Job done.

Pause.

I'm sitting here for the umpteenth time this week, trying to start. The weather isn't helping,  as the humidity dissolves everything into a sleepy mess. Ideas decide to relax, and  have a lie down for a while. Sometimes its best to leave ideas time to gestate, so they can develop and arrive, right? 

So, chill in the garden, do fuck all, and wait for the shitty weather to take the sunny fun away.