Siege engines of the mind

I’m having something of a panic attack this afternoon. Apart from minor hangover residue, it was a good start to the day. I even managed to go on the exercise bike. Yep, pedalled and everything. Then I remembered accidentally opening a letter for the previous tenant yesterday and saw a debt collection agency was making things legal. I’d started throwing out any post that wasn’t for me after the first few years of living here (doesn’t everyone?), but I’m now anxious that bailiffs are going to start banging on the door asking for this guy’s money or possessions. I know that, once I’m able to establish my identity, I’ll be fine, but I still don’t like confrontation. I’ll start by reposting stuff that’s not for me again, even though it shouldn’t be my job for the rest of my life to clean up after someone who hasn’t lived here for at least 13 years.

Then the surgery calls and says that, because it took me so long to hand in that blood pressure log, we’re going to have to start the whole thing again. That means more blood tests and more logs, then starting the drugs on a low dose and upping them after more tests. Oh the deepest of sighs. I think I’ll just cancel any appointments they make and risk a heart attack. It’s not worth all this bollocks.

I just want to be left alone.

Why is that too much to ask?!

What’s creepy is that the surgery haven’t kept accurate records of which nurse I’ve been seeing and how much medication she’s been telling me to take. That seems like a dangerous oversight to me. I’ll mention it to the doctor when he rings me on Friday. You know, that call to discuss my blood test results that was acceptable to make me wait a whole month for.

I also think I’ve lost a filling on the left side of my mouth, which is causing more and more discomfort when I eat. I’m now keeping entirely to the right side of my mouth when I chew (although there’s no persistent pain outside of feeding time). It’s that bad. Problem is, I’m not sure whether I’m still registered with a dentist, or whether I need to find a new one. Even if I am able to make an appointment, I’ll still have to go… out there.

When it rains, it pours.

I guess that’s about it, but it’s enough to get me typing. Speaking to someone, even if it’s this brick wall, does seem to help.

The shopping came, although there wasn’t much in there to eat. It still racked up to the £50 basket minimum though. Inflation, huh? I’ve taken some pasta out of the freezer, but I don’t think that’ll be defrosted properly until tomorrow. Takeaway it is! I think I’ve earned one.

Just don’t tell my doctor.

Not that he’ll keep a record of it.

Yup, I best go think of more effective ways to keep out bad thoughts.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

12 hours later...

Well, that was a disaster.

I may have to rethink my “going out once a week” hypothesis. Although, perhaps not liking it is really the point. Just to get myself out of the flat and amongst the general populace. It might make me appreciate staying in more. You know, away from… them. I changed rooms in the pub at one point, just to get away from the guy who kept saying “Christian name” instead of “first name” or “forename”. But, alas, I found myself sat with two media types, pontificating about how wonderful they believed they were. I swear British people are turning into loud, entitled Americans.

To add to the above, it was one of those dark-before-dusk afternoons, that made it extra difficult for me to get around. Classic Monday weather. Really demoralising.

At least going out forced me to get a ton of personal admin done. I ended up having to right the bank, as it turned out I had two debit cards active on their system, so the new one that arrived three years early just needed discarding. I also posted that blood pressure log and my prescription on the way into town. The driver was kind enough to get out of his vehicle and post it for me. I didn’t even ask. He got the change from a tenner after that £7 journey.

Oh yeah, my bank balance is deadly close to the limit for claiming disability, hence my needing to share it around liberally.

You’re not allowed to attempt to better yourself when you’re dependant on handouts and without hope.

Anyway, once I got home I just had a grilled cheese & marmite and went to bed. There are actually twos slices left on the counter, but they need throwing out. I assume. My appetite is quite low right now, so much so that I never really added to my grocery order by the deadline. I think I’ll be having a takeaway tonight.

Oh and my after-pub nap lasted 12 solid hours. Amazing. As I always pontificate, say what you like about alcoholism, but at least you get your rest.

I’m mostly over the hangover now, which hasn’t been too bad. I guess I did only have 3 or 4* points in the pub, then a can of cider once I got home. I really don’t like my post-pub mindset, which is why I usually find it easy just to go to bed after. My week-long binges usually form out of drinking alone at home.

*6

What else? Nope, that’s about it. My old school friend started replying again, so I assume the rot of the working week has started to set in. I’m that last step you take before the knife.

Speaking of pontifs, I best go and finally finish off The Agony and the Ecstasy. I feel there is some major Charlton Heston grandstanding to come. And why not. Regardless of his nasty right-wing politics, he is very watchable.

What?!

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Art through adversity

I’ve managed to calm down since yesterday’s “funny” turn. I was still feeling somewhat short-tempered this morning, but that appears to have worn off now. I managed to sleep, again, in short bursts, but only until 2 am. I’d rather have it lasted longer, but one must take what one can get.

I’m wondering whether to venture out today, instead of tomorrow. The weather is rather drab, but it may improve by midday. Anyway, I’ll be going form door to door via taxis, so the weather shouldn’t matter all that much.

I need to do a little personal admin before I go out, as the bank has sent me a new debit card earlier than expected, so I want to make sure the damn thing’ll work. Sigh. People always seem to come up with things to dumbfound me when my head is all scrambled. Can’t I just get by on my looks?!

I combined the leftovers of that chicken dish and the pizza topping for dinner before going to bed last night. It turned out to be just delightful! I think the chicken part needed some livening up, which the chillies in the pizza topping did in spades. I’m glad both meals finally had a happy ending.

My old school friend hasn’t replied to my texts in a couple of days, so I assume he has tired of me for now. I guess parents and weekends make a lonely combination for their single friends, such as myself.

I’m just carrying on with The Agony and the Ecstasy, which is rocking along quite nicely. Especially for a film with an intermission. It’s a more visually formal film than Carol Reed’s energetic The Third Man, but I’m liking it all the same.

Story of my life.

I’ve put a grocery order in for tomorrow, but I can’t for the life of me decide what recipes to cook. The basket is pretty bare at the moment. Perhaps I should takeaway the night away and put another order in once I’m inspired again. Or just have a think this afternoon, once the beer starts a-flowing.

Hmmm.

Right, Chuck is looking at me funny, like he wants to be cracking on with his performance. I’m coming, you gun-totting nut-job!

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Staring at ceilings

I feel compelled to write again this evening, as I find myself in a foul mood. I don’t know why though, which sort of makes it worse. I’ve actually had a nice, chilled, productive day. And yet, here I sit, with a terribly short temper. I hope it passes soon, as I don’t like feeling this way at all. My brain is so flooded with strange feelings that I can’t even focus on my mental totem for calming down. Perhaps I should just go to bed and wait for it to pass.

I’ve just bought a digital copy of Carol Reed’s The Agony and the Ecstasy. I love films about creative people but, of course, UK distribution of physical media has become almost non existent at this point. We’re so fucking lazy. I was going to order some other DVDs, but Amazon’s being weird about postage. My basket was up to £70, and yet they wouldn’t offer me free delivery. This happens sometimes, almost to fuck with you on purpose so you subscribe to Prime, then it all goes back to normal after a few days.

Bastards.

I’m not paying for that guy’s divorce.

I made that pizza earlier, which I found disappointing. I think it was actually very nice, but I was in the early stages of this foul mood. I should have known something was up. I have leftovers of yesterday’s chicken dish to finish, but my appetite has vanished all of a sudden.

The one thing I can usually rely on.

I don’t think I need to order booze for Tuesday, as I still have some remaining from my harmful binging last week. Golly, has it only been a week?! Time has gone so slowly recently.

My brother hasn’t replied to my text, so I assume he is indeed pouting as predicted.

And he wonders why we didn’t speak for about 15 years.

Oh I made a mistake in my last post when I said Kylie had taken a hiatus in the late 90s. Turns out Spotify just had her albums in the wrong order. Girl’s been working solidly for 35 years. Bless her little cotton socks. I’m impressed by her self-titled 1994 album. There’s definitely a shift from disposable pop to a more mature sound. I dare say it’s close to… well… art.

Speaking of art, I best go back to Charlton Heston arguing with the pope.

Good times.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Extinguishing the midnight oil

At least trying to.

I must say, there are few more successful tools for fighting insomnia than… well… more insomnia. Yesterday I got up at midnight and was still up and about by 7 pm. This would usually be frustrating, but it meant that I was able to sleep (in short bursts) until 5 am today. I hope that that will mean the end of this period of skewed sleep.

I’ve just gotten out of the bath after being on the exercise bike, and I’m feeling very energised and positive. I listened to Kylie whilst riding today. I created a playlist of her hits that lasts around my preferred 45 minute cycling mark. I’m going to make a second for her next three albums, although I’m not expecting to find much material. Bless. She seems to have briefly retired, or had a voluntary “hiatus” as they say nowadays, between her fifth and sixth albums, so that doesn’t bode well.

I’m trying to think of other artists that might be good to have a static ride to. I may just stick on one of my usual playlists and set the timer on my phone for 45 minutes. That literally just occurred to me as I typed the words.

I’m also compiling a playlist of that Dutch nonprofit music thing called Kinderen voor Kinderen, which consists of songs suggested by kids and sung by kids. The actually songsmithing, instrumentation, and production I assume is all adults. Anyway, I’m finding it to be aiding my mental health considerably. Not only do their one-album-a-year-fo-40-years contain some genuinely great power pop (although they started off by doing bizarre music hall pastiches, which I can’t imagine kids in the 80s having any interest in listening to), the singers are cute as hell, and obviously lack the grim cynicism of older performers. One song in particular is so adorable that I was literally crying by the end. What a silly person I am! So, yeah, give them a listen, should you ever need cheering up.

Don’t worry, it’s not weird.

I hope.

I made some nice dinners yesterday. The main event was a Keith Floyd recipe, something he calls in the episode “Peas Passole”. I think. There are no subtitles on the DVD to confirm its name, and the word “Passole” exists nowhere on the internet. Perhaps he misheard a local chef whilst being told the recipe. There is a “Pazole”, but that’s a spicy Mexican stew, far from the chicken in peas and milk that Keith mades. Anyway, the dish was a bit of a let down, and I have a small portion of it left in the fridge. One significant thing about the experience cooking it is that it was the fist time I’ve ever managed to successfully cook carrot without having to boil or roast it first. I just made sure to fry it off early, which mercifully resulted in no crunchy bits.

I also used up the rest of the marinated pork I had prepared a couple of days earlier. The first portion I used in a stir fry, this final one I just made sandwiches out of. Very nice! Think I’ll definitely be doing that again. It was like a tikka kebab from a takeaway.

Today I’ll be making a homemade pizza. I just hope the flatbread is still ok, as it’s been in the fridge for days. Oh I’m sure it’s fine.

What else? Oh I’ve started feeling a mild craving for booze, so Tuesday can’t come soon enough. I think I’ll keep it simple for my first trip out in ages, by just going down to the pub at the train station. Not only do they do great beer, but there are convenient cash machines inside the station (my eyesight doesn’t permit use of outdoor ones anymore), plus eating establishments to soak up the fine ales. I best get some cans in ahead of time, just to combat the hangover.

My brother texted me asking why I hadn’t replied to his last two highly detailed reports on mother’s declining health. This should highlight his level of narcissism, as he is clearly annoyed that he isn’t getting enough attention from our mother slowly dying. I wanted to just reply “What do you want me to say?”, but I just explained that I hadn’t been well. I’m sure he’ll do some serious pouting. Martyrs are usually more modest than this.

He probably wants me to clap for him.

Fucksakes.

In other news, I did a little more writing yesterday. Like my session the day before, I rewrote the first chapter of yet another new tale. I wonder whether these will all work as short stories that I can publish as an omnibus. Hmmm. Well, this one is a historical fantasy type thing, set in ancient Mesopotamia. Although it begins in Egypt. Fingers crossed my sudden burst of creative energy persists into more than just two chapters, like all my current projects.

“Projects”, lol. As if I’ve earned the right to talk like that.

Anyway, I best go chop some vegetables for my pizza topping. Or maybe I should just do a batch of chips to snack on. Regardless, I’ll let you know how I get on.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Sticking to my guns

I’m about 3 days into my “tidied up life” and doing fairly well. What would have helped me along would have been a normal sleep pattern but, alas, I’m currently getting up at midnight. Hey ho, I’m sure it’ll right itself out. I just hope it does by around Tuesday, when I hope to get out the flat for a wander. I said in my last post that I’d either go to the pub or restaurant, but now I’m thinking I should do both. Basically, get right royally pissed, then sober up with some food so I don’t continue boozing for days after. Sounds logical, right? I am nervous about how alcohol will interact with my new and more positive mental state though.

Well, it’s Friday night/Saturday morning as I type, so that’s a few days off yet. I’m managing to stick to my “No Negative Thoughts” rule, although I was struggling Thursday. Having something to eat then going for a nap seems to douse the fire quite well. I’m cooking a lot, which is great. I’ve also had two sessions on the exercise bike which, as hoped, makes me feel great. It’s weird being so physical at 3 am, but that’s my life right now.

I’m managing to stay away from YouTube as part of my “No Social Media” rule, but it does take time to dust off old habits. Sometimes I’ll move to click on the app, either on my phone or PlayStation, then remember what I’ve committed to.

My mental totem seems to work quite well in times of crisis. If I begin to be attacked by negative thoughts, I just imagine a quant backstreet in an old Italian hilltop town. You know, the sort with washing hanging from building to building, little old ladies peeling tomatoes, and bike messengers bouncing along on the cobbles below their wheels. Or something. You get the idea. Anyway, that seems to work for some reason.

Usually I’d be cynical about any of this lasting, but those sorts of thoughts are against my new system, so I’m not allowing my usual nihilism to mess me about. I’m sure my cyclothymia will try to derail things too, but I’ll simply adapt my rules and galvanise them to its rules. Whether it likes it or not.

I’m in change.

I guess here will be the only place that I allow myself to mull over the thoughts I am now suppressing. Some may call this “denial” and rather unhealthy, but I think it’ll work for me. Nothing else bloody-well does.

I actually did a bit of writing yesterday. It’s a second pass at the first chapter of a new story. I’ve been planning it, a coming-of-age story, for a while, so I think it’s ready to be put down on, erm, electronic paper. The first pass I made a few months ago was a little dour, but this new one has more humour and direct human interaction. Listening to any audiobooks read by Frederick Davidson helps inspire me. He is the voice of my inner monologue and writing style, regardless of what he’s narrating.

I opened up to my old school friend by text about my recent self-harming. He was, of course, very loving about it, but we quickly went back to our usual obscene humour. He’s been going through similar mental anguish himself recently, so he can relate. He’s also now officially cheating on his wife. While I don’t condone this, she did it first and only confessed when she thought she’d caught something off her lover. Who knows what’ll happen next. I guess I could make up the sofa for him, should he caught and need a place to cool-off. He probably has friends more conveniently closer to him though. And he had a brother nearby.

One can always hope though.

Anyway, I’m currently sat watching John Woo’s Hard Boiled. This Italian Blu-ray (come on, UK distributors!) doesn’t have the original Cantonese audio but, bizarrely, the original language dub is just as silly as the English one. Oh I think the library book Tony Leung hides the gun in early on is the same three-volume collection of Shakespeare plays from the 19th century that I’ve collected. Isn’t that crazy?! I bought one in a second hand book shop on the Isle of Man when I was on holiday with the family back in the 90s, then found the other two recently on eBay (coincidentally, they only had the two I was missing, so perhaps it was the same book shop). I’ll check to see whether there are fake-blood stains around the edges of any of my three.

My brother keeps sending me texts updating me about mother’s health, but I’ve stopped replying to them. I think he sends out a group text and ignores any responses. Plus, well, I know there won’t be any good news regarding her anymore. Unless they can magically un-shrink her brain.

Seriously, that’s actually what’s happened to her.

Right, on that deeply sorrowful note, I best get back to super-gay Honk Kong cops shooting… everything.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!