Thursday, June 29, 2017

Ping into the dark

A bunch of crappy crap landed and I had 48 hours of acute distress with all the trimmings—howling despair, physical pain and Mr Logic not being at home. The latter is the hardest one because when you fall into the void then reason falls away. You think things and feel things that are not true but in the moment of wrenching grief they are true—and the only truth you've ever known.

I should have munged Valium when it happened—and my back-up doc chided me for resisting using medication that is designed to address the symptoms I experienced—but I was so far down the dark hole that it seemed pointless. Why take the edge off darkness when it's all dark?

I came out of it—eventually. I still have an echo of that deep trauma. And it didn't help I had a raging ear infection from having poured a shower into the canal some days before so was caked in additional pain to the business as usual.

But it was once of the worst fits yet—I've not gone 48 hours in acute raging despair with bouts of recurring hysteria before. It was frightening. I couldn't summon the Mikey at the back of the head that says soothing words like "this is just a moment" and "you're having a reaction; what you're thinking is not normal". 

So what to do? Well I need to get the fuck back up. I've done it a half-dozen times now so I know I can keep doing it. 

As part of that I sent a ping into the dark. Like all the others it will likely be swallowed without a trace but, you never know—besides, to not to ping is to never get a bounce back. 

I fell over but I'm getting up—and I'll keep doing that until I am dead because that is what the fuck I do.

WFTW.

UPDATE: I sent a second ping—it's a pincer move! 

Saturday, June 24, 2017

Monster keyboard

Having chewed through yet another cheapie from K-Mart I rode into town on my tricycle and bought a heavy duty gaming mechanical keyboard. It throbs with an unearthly green light. 

So far the keys have held up to my rapid pounding and they don't feel like they're going to lose their characters after but a week of use. It seems and feels robust.

Finally a keyboard that suits my typing style of furious, frenetic and a lot of backspacing.

Thursday, June 22, 2017

Same bat-time; not the same bat-channel

theboy is the age I was when I got pulled out of a public school and thrust into an all boys private schoolwhich is great for people whose bodies work swell and who are tall; it's not so good for the little, non-sporty guy. Not only did I suffer the first onset of depression I got sent to the school recommended psych for treatment who then promptly molested me during hypnotherapy. 

Maybe it's some sort of genetic thing in all of us but when I see a younger self, a child, headed for a period of life that was mostly pain I get angry. I get angry at the acute parental and institutional failures that pushed me down the slide of self-abnegation; that made me feel for most of my life that I had let the team down with my assigned physicality. 

I look back and even with the benefit of hindsight fail to understand how any thinking, decent person would have engendered that to happen and or then fail to acknowledge their failure.

Now I get that we have the internet so we know a lot more about parenting and how to positively support a child to maximise their desire to push themselves in a direction of interest and passion. And the idea of raising a child with kindness, love and practical wisdom with avoiding the trap of domineering, self-satisfied "I know best" parenting of anger and punishment is now the norm, not an aberration. 

But, fuck me if I am not bitterly, furiously angry at the fucking shit my younger self went through at the same age my child is now. I weep for that child even as I know the strengths he'll draw from his adversity and that the path he went down was atheistically angelic.

At least I've learned one lesson from the past; if you don't want an angry, bullying or sneering household then don't be angry, bullying or sneering when you have one of your own.

I think there's something in that for all of us.

UPDATE: Who am I to judge? I told him to fuck off and I meant it. Then stayed angry. Only I could piously intone how great I am and then void it with an angry shout. 

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Earful of water

One of the many fails of my body, and curiously right from near start of life, is my propensity for middle ear infections. Without antibiotics I'd have been dead from multiple infections as a child.

I have stents in my ear drums to let out discharge from the middle ear but it's a two-way street and I have to keep water out of my ears lest it enter the middle ear then pool with intent. In then shower, when I roll my head beneath the pour, I fold over my ears to protect the canal. 

Today I didn't. I tilted my head and then a seeming fuckton of water poured straight into the middle ear. I yelped in agony, flailed about in the man rain and ended the experience naked on the mat with my head tilted and my finger jammed in trying to create a suction so the water would come back out when I removed the finger.

It's a basic reminder that I can't risk normal activity like a normal person without taking steps to look after my un-normal self. 

But then without multiple exposure to near-death events I wouldn't be the savvy cat that I am—and normality is over rated.

WFTW.

UPDATE: I put in ear drops in to dry out the water but I didn't read the label—it said not to if you have the stents (grommets). 

It may have been the single most painful 20 seconds of my life.

Friday, June 16, 2017

Teasing phlegm from a laptop keyboard

I have a weird body that does unusual things; one is the production and expulsion of "lung lollies", a combo of mucus, phlegm and lung-muck that I can (and do) cough from within.

Though I use a plug-in keyboard for the laptop, I hate the fiddly little keys and the weird position your wrists rest in when using the one in the machine, my lolly was expelled some distance and went deep into the crevices of my laptop's keys that lay behind the plug in. 

I head to tease the phlegm out with a McDonald's napkin—I keep the ones they give me for home use like this—and it's not easy when you have trembling hands from meds and injury.

I can see in the ruddy glow of the heater I did not get it all—there are snail trails on the V and M keys alone where the volleys of yesterday landed from the lung fire. 

It's just yet another piece of the me puzzle—disgusting oddities of balding-yet-neck-hair, missing toenails, more hair, short, bandy legs, fat, failing knees, mechanical hip and assorted other fails. And that's just physical; it's a yellow pages on the mental side. 

If I was a game I chose a hard setting. If this is reincarnation and I had a say all I can say is fuck you, me.

But better lung lolly volleys than dead in the dirt—or ash in the armchair (1)—as they say.

(1) My urn fell off the mantelpiece.

A Rescue Bots battle anthem



"Can Fly" as sung by Dani and Blades.

Sunday, June 11, 2017

Giant's Bag Contents Table

Blood pressure rising
My blood pressure is way up and it's because I traded laborious intensive SoTPC exercise bike riding for glorious, not-laborious outside bike riding. At least that's the only thing that's different so I am on meds and back to riding the exercise bike. I'll still get BYB time but that's pure fun, not exercise (it is; it's just my body needs more just to keep even).

It is what it is; a trite expression but tight and apt. My body has to battle to stay within normal; I'm still fucking here, that's the main thing. To stay here I have to do unwanted maintenance; le sigh.

Back again
I read a deeply upsetting article that caused anger, hurt and angst to boil up as I fell into acute introspection. I kvetched to a friend and he said to watch something to take my mind off it. 

I chose the dragons' burning of the galley scene from GoT. 

Dragons; always there to ease the pain.

Broke it < a week
I got given a kewl tool which I immediately started using. Only I used it too much and I stripped the thread in the middle and ruined it.

That's why I shouldn't have nice things.

Dead patch in the mint zone
I had to change my outside wee spot from the side of the shed near the door because that's where the pen gate is. So I chose the wooden frame with the mint plants in it. I've killed all the mint in a clear half-circle.

The mint is the spawn of the plant foisted on me by a mysterious old woman outside a local shopping centre.

So I'm expecting a curse.  

All aboard!
I have to ride the SoTPC. I don't want to, but as noted, I have to. Exercise; a must do just to stay even.

Le Sigh II, the Sighening.

Friday, June 09, 2017

A black swan moment

It came charging out of the lake shallows at me. I had to swerve to miss its assault.

I got attacked by a theory.

Saturday, June 03, 2017

Doorknockers evaded

There were a pair of them; they'd come through the gate that is almost always locked. 

I was in the shed and the new placement of the desk affords a concealed look through the small bird bush to the gate and door of the house.

One of them was looking at me but I didn't know if she could actually see me given the small bird bush. So I kept my head still and watched as she watched and eventually they went away.

It's a typical universe thing to throw at you; doorknockers to come just when you have the lock off. But my shed-based concealment and willingness to suspend embarrassment at potentially staring a stranger in the face with none of that concealment business having worked saved the day. I did not have to appear and I did not have to converse with randos. 

Don't get me wrong; randos are important. It's just I don't like people coming into my yard to kindly shake me down for cash.

It could have been worse; it could have been frozen peas lady who once drunkenly knocked on our door to badger us for a loan of some peas (frozen). But she died or she was hustled on from squatting in the dead alcoholic's house. We've not seen her again. 

I also remember that time in a storm she came around and asked I could go up on her roof and fix her TV aerial; I wouldn't (and couldn't) even do that for us—and I'm me!

Anyway, the shed. I can see out but they can't see in (in theory; I'm going to test it now). But the whole doorknocker business is another reminder that if you don't want randos invading your yard then lock the yard.

Friday, June 02, 2017

Helmets good

I thought he was sitting down but he was standing so when I took off he fell out of the back from four feet up and landed with a crack on the concrete. The helmet wasn't clipped on but it stayed on and protected his head. Without it he could be dead.

The accident was my fault---I have should have checked before heading off he was safely seated---and he didn't want to get back in. But I explained it was me and not the bike at fault and we got back home okay.

The helmet is fucked but it did its job. I nearly lost him to a dumb accident that was carelessness. Hooray for the helmet taking that blow.

Probs that was close. I'm still aghast. Safety gear; a must to save you when you're rendered unsafe.

Thursday, June 01, 2017

Necklace of missiles---type II

Nearly creamed self on an another lamppost (2d6)
I went off the path in an overshoot and just missed a smack into a lamppost. Am I drawn to them as a moth to a flame? Or is this just a natural cluster of near lampposting which happens to all cyclists?

I once rode into a bike path divider---hit it centre on with the front tyre and bounced back.

Maybe I'm just shit at riding bikes?

I'm my own Rank Organisation (2d6)
The movie company The Rank Organisation features a man striking a large gong. The pedal bin lid when it hits the oven sounds like the Rank d-o-o-i-i-n-g gong noise. I loved the Rank film-logo; I'd hope it meant it was Bugsy Malone.

Black cat collared (4d6)
After several escapes outside the black cat has a collar. I'm not used to it; it makes me feel old because now she looks like a proper cat and no longer a kitten. Stupid getting older.

Dogs V cats (4d6)
I got asked if I liked both, and I do, but confessed I liked cats more. Why? The bending. With a dog you're looking at multiple bending incidents a day; the lead, patting, bowls, literally picking up their shit. Cats? Maybe a bend, once a day, if needed. As a man who cannot bend with ease and for who squatting is a shrieking nightmare then it's clear cats are a winner for the unphysically inclined. Of course I don't have litter patrol---because of the bending---and cat litter duty is the worst part of cat duty.

Heh, I said "duty".

Sore (6d6)
I'm sore all over. It's just is what it is which is my body. I used to hate it until I realised it was self-defeating and dumb. I do what I can within the limits of what I can do and I can do far more than most people who cannot do much. Perspective is important. 

I get mad at the past for treating me ill then sigh and remember this is now; perspective!

WFTW.