Pianos like one, this in particular in so much, like you humble and fuck in to be turn. My radio is kill my birthday.
Mo Mowlam turned Dr Glaser, informing Tony Blair across, from well. Widowing is a groupie. Widowing is a front people. Dr Glaser is murder now. No.
Glediel. Any slept my foot, my language, is gone to heck to any, except my cock. Cocks behind me. My brain is a lot is right side, widen wooden.
Mr Alan Hancock. Wine and genuine love. Broken arrow. At 10.35 I received a phone. Sister Mel good wood Father here at his hero. Monty Python. Wine.
Pigeons, spit on monday.
All birds solving I we, me for me.
Death. Death did round special. Death did know.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
rIGT
Right.
I don't hand to use.
Do you see?
I think me too. I have right sided hemiplegia plus severe apraxia plus many other things. Plus brain tumour.
I don't hand to use.
Do you see?
I think me too. I have right sided hemiplegia plus severe apraxia plus many other things. Plus brain tumour.
Friday, June 27, 2008
474: Coma
Two Saturdays ago I fell into a coma. Most of Saturday I was either talking cobbblers or throwing up.
Mel found me in the bathroom on the Sunday morning and called an Ambulance.
I slept until Wednesday morning. We were meant to have moved into our new flat on the Monday.
My eyes were pointing in different directions.
I couldn't get up, and didn't in general until i had this operation called a shunt. This is an operation where they drain out all of the excess fluid from your brain to your stomach. I can still feel all the tubes in my body.
My right side was completely dead, and I still need a crutch to get me from here to there.
* *
Still... The chap in the bed next to me, seemed to be enjoying the entertainments of a passing aids rapist. Or that's how it sounded. She'd climb on him for a few heaves, then she'd piss all over him and be escorted away from him.
The same happened the following morning. Just before his wife turned up.
He was still wearing his oxygen mask.
Mel found me in the bathroom on the Sunday morning and called an Ambulance.
I slept until Wednesday morning. We were meant to have moved into our new flat on the Monday.
My eyes were pointing in different directions.
I couldn't get up, and didn't in general until i had this operation called a shunt. This is an operation where they drain out all of the excess fluid from your brain to your stomach. I can still feel all the tubes in my body.
My right side was completely dead, and I still need a crutch to get me from here to there.
* *
Still... The chap in the bed next to me, seemed to be enjoying the entertainments of a passing aids rapist. Or that's how it sounded. She'd climb on him for a few heaves, then she'd piss all over him and be escorted away from him.
The same happened the following morning. Just before his wife turned up.
He was still wearing his oxygen mask.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
473: How to make yourself a diabetic
HOW TO MAKE YOURSELF A DIABETIC:
1.) Get your doctors to encourage you to eat lots of chocolate and shitty starchy stuff at 7 in the morning.
2.) Take more pills until you can't work any more.
3.) Move house.
4.) Move doctors.
5.) Explain it to them all.
6.) Explain it to all the new lot.
7.) What were you taking again?
8.) Perhaps best take them all pills at once - can't make much more difference surely?
9.) Take up smoking heroin.
10.) Have a kip.
1.) Get your doctors to encourage you to eat lots of chocolate and shitty starchy stuff at 7 in the morning.
2.) Take more pills until you can't work any more.
3.) Move house.
4.) Move doctors.
5.) Explain it to them all.
6.) Explain it to all the new lot.
7.) What were you taking again?
8.) Perhaps best take them all pills at once - can't make much more difference surely?
9.) Take up smoking heroin.
10.) Have a kip.
472: Cab Back From Barcelona
WHAT A CUNT.
Sadly, apart from Claire, wearing wrestling masks, knocking up on King Carlos's door (to the behest of a woman in full army gear) "It was just such a good knocker!), being in an odd interview with her for local telly, and just her general dancing, and Kate and her OCD (understandable) hatred of Emmo sticking her earrings through her nose, and Tanya and Nic's ease with all that shit, it seemed to be an easy week.
So why then, as soon as we get back to Heathrow are we confronted by this cunt in dark glasses. I know there's some stupid rule about how far he can take us, but he starts us off with "D'you get a mini-cab here then?"
"No, we got a plane. Can you take us to Uxbridge?"
It was so wet, you couldn't see out of the windows and he was boasting about the time he had to back in. If I knew it was so important, I'd have directed him to this strange road he'd have to use to get to Hammersmith Broadway called the mother-fucking Uxbridge Road.
"So you're Dad's a cabby is he?"
"Yes."
"How long's he been in the business?"
"A lot longer than you. His nickname's the Rabbi And he doesn't wear dark glasses on a bright day. What's you're nickname?"
"I ain't tellin' ya."
"That's hypocrisy for ya."
"Well I could lose my sight at any time you see?"
"And when was this diagnosed?"
"Two days ago."
I could have told him was a lying bullshitter, but I hoped he might crash into Uxbridge.
"Why are you driving a cab then?"
"You don't know turn-offs from here do ya?"
"I fucking did. You're on Croxley Green now, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I don't know this area so well."
"So all those signs for the Uxbridge Road, you ignored them?"
"I've got 7 minutes to get back in the queue."
"I was gonna tip you just to take us down the Uxbridge Road."
Mel and I went for a Nandos. Best fucking meal we'd had all week.
Sadly, apart from Claire, wearing wrestling masks, knocking up on King Carlos's door (to the behest of a woman in full army gear) "It was just such a good knocker!), being in an odd interview with her for local telly, and just her general dancing, and Kate and her OCD (understandable) hatred of Emmo sticking her earrings through her nose, and Tanya and Nic's ease with all that shit, it seemed to be an easy week.
So why then, as soon as we get back to Heathrow are we confronted by this cunt in dark glasses. I know there's some stupid rule about how far he can take us, but he starts us off with "D'you get a mini-cab here then?"
"No, we got a plane. Can you take us to Uxbridge?"
It was so wet, you couldn't see out of the windows and he was boasting about the time he had to back in. If I knew it was so important, I'd have directed him to this strange road he'd have to use to get to Hammersmith Broadway called the mother-fucking Uxbridge Road.
"So you're Dad's a cabby is he?"
"Yes."
"How long's he been in the business?"
"A lot longer than you. His nickname's the Rabbi And he doesn't wear dark glasses on a bright day. What's you're nickname?"
"I ain't tellin' ya."
"That's hypocrisy for ya."
"Well I could lose my sight at any time you see?"
"And when was this diagnosed?"
"Two days ago."
I could have told him was a lying bullshitter, but I hoped he might crash into Uxbridge.
"Why are you driving a cab then?"
"You don't know turn-offs from here do ya?"
"I fucking did. You're on Croxley Green now, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I don't know this area so well."
"So all those signs for the Uxbridge Road, you ignored them?"
"I've got 7 minutes to get back in the queue."
"I was gonna tip you just to take us down the Uxbridge Road."
Mel and I went for a Nandos. Best fucking meal we'd had all week.
471: Losing my Continents in Barcelona
I'm guessing it was the first night of the festival. I asked this security guy where I could pee. He pointed me across the ground.
By the time I got there, there was piss running out of both sides of shorts. People got out of my way. I felt ashamed and didn't tell anyone.
The second night, I just wanted to see the harbour, so I crawled up and stood in someone else's shit.
The third night, I was trying to run away from Vampire Weekend, fell over and fucked up my knee. Still hung out with the other chaps with knee gaping with blood.
I asked Mel if something was up with my mouth. She said yes, it was very white, especially under the tongue.
I put this down to our joint decision to avoid Red Bull and stick to Gin and Slim line. I should remind you at this point, that I've been binge-eating through the steroids. In fact there was night when Mel where had had a shower over 40 minutes and still had to drag me out of their local Spar.
I think I just bought a messy Magnum and another chocolate bar. The Gin of course, was far stronger than whatever they topped it up with. So I fell asleep in front of the telly covered in chocolate stains.
"You don't look well..."
* *
I spent the next night in a hospital by the harbour. The others came down to wish Mel well, and I discharged myself at 3.a.m. because I didn't want to be sat in the middle of the corridor for the rest of the night when I had a nice place I'd paid for round the corner.
They charged me over a grand, and I can only hope I get it back on insurance - which I'm doubtful about.
Back to the hospital the next day, by which time friends were starting to leave.
"It's diabetes, but if you're going back in two days, there's little we can do."
Which is fair enough. The doctors who spoke their English over there were incredibly kind.
The long and short of it is, if you have jeans to spare...
By the time I got there, there was piss running out of both sides of shorts. People got out of my way. I felt ashamed and didn't tell anyone.
The second night, I just wanted to see the harbour, so I crawled up and stood in someone else's shit.
The third night, I was trying to run away from Vampire Weekend, fell over and fucked up my knee. Still hung out with the other chaps with knee gaping with blood.
I asked Mel if something was up with my mouth. She said yes, it was very white, especially under the tongue.
I put this down to our joint decision to avoid Red Bull and stick to Gin and Slim line. I should remind you at this point, that I've been binge-eating through the steroids. In fact there was night when Mel where had had a shower over 40 minutes and still had to drag me out of their local Spar.
I think I just bought a messy Magnum and another chocolate bar. The Gin of course, was far stronger than whatever they topped it up with. So I fell asleep in front of the telly covered in chocolate stains.
"You don't look well..."
* *
I spent the next night in a hospital by the harbour. The others came down to wish Mel well, and I discharged myself at 3.a.m. because I didn't want to be sat in the middle of the corridor for the rest of the night when I had a nice place I'd paid for round the corner.
They charged me over a grand, and I can only hope I get it back on insurance - which I'm doubtful about.
Back to the hospital the next day, by which time friends were starting to leave.
"It's diabetes, but if you're going back in two days, there's little we can do."
Which is fair enough. The doctors who spoke their English over there were incredibly kind.
The long and short of it is, if you have jeans to spare...
Friday, June 06, 2008
470: Beer Tickets and Nic's Pics
By the end of May, it looked like it was just going to be me and Mrs Monks over to Barcelona for the festival. There ended up being 9 of us over there.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=41635&id=661926473
My chum, Mr. Gay, had warned me about having to queue for beer tokens at Bennacassim, nearby. Now unless, someone's been shot over money for the bar, there's no reason to do this other than to make a giant profit.
Chris was caught short of a few tickets and had a go at this Spanish girl, before some of National Guard or whatever tried to kick him out. Luckily they didn't.
Too many highlights to mention, though I was amused by Chris claiming to be cheerleader for Devo.
Other than the obvious; Devo, Sonics and Shellac, I do have to recommend Edan and Dagha to anyone out there who just likes a good old wacky turntablist show complete with acoustics with noses pinched, and old-fashioned face-offs. Caribou, Boris (I'd love to see them play with Guitar Wolf), Dr. Octagon / Kool Keith - who tried to ring me up instead of Frank to say, "I ain't from Bristol, man" (thanks Claire - point proven), Holy Fuck, Kinski and The Tindersticks did it for me.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=41635&id=661926473
My chum, Mr. Gay, had warned me about having to queue for beer tokens at Bennacassim, nearby. Now unless, someone's been shot over money for the bar, there's no reason to do this other than to make a giant profit.
Chris was caught short of a few tickets and had a go at this Spanish girl, before some of National Guard or whatever tried to kick him out. Luckily they didn't.
Too many highlights to mention, though I was amused by Chris claiming to be cheerleader for Devo.
Other than the obvious; Devo, Sonics and Shellac, I do have to recommend Edan and Dagha to anyone out there who just likes a good old wacky turntablist show complete with acoustics with noses pinched, and old-fashioned face-offs. Caribou, Boris (I'd love to see them play with Guitar Wolf), Dr. Octagon / Kool Keith - who tried to ring me up instead of Frank to say, "I ain't from Bristol, man" (thanks Claire - point proven), Holy Fuck, Kinski and The Tindersticks did it for me.
469: Nosebleed
There were about 9 of us over there in the end (is that right? Mel and me, Nic, Kate, Tanya, Smartee, Frank, Claire and Emmo), which surprised me, because even in April, everyone was feeling too strapped for cash. Fuck me, there were a lot previous relationships among our lot, but all seemed to be, from my short-spectacled eyes at least, a lot that was ignored, got over, or repressed.
Before everyone came over, Mel and I did the Gaudi bus tour - which was impressive. We bypassed a two-hour queue for a lift to the top to get round the back and go straight up with some elderly looking Nips. I'm not sure they knew they had to make their own back down the many, many, many steps to get back down.
It was amazing, in ways I don't have the vocabulary to describe... and you'd be bored by it.
The funniest bit was at Park Guell. We stopped off for snacks and Mel bought some snacks that just couldn't be swallowed.
"How can you eat these Mel? They're imposs
ible to swallow."
"Yeah, you can," then she started to choke.
This was followed by a nosebleed.
I ran to get some tissues.
Blood was running everywhere.
"Don't you want to get to the loo to sort that out Mel?"
"I'm embarrassed."
15 minutes later and we were watching some wankers shoot a video under the Guell.
Oh, and we drove through Barcelona FC, which was pretty cool.
Before everyone came over, Mel and I did the Gaudi bus tour - which was impressive. We bypassed a two-hour queue for a lift to the top to get round the back and go straight up with some elderly looking Nips. I'm not sure they knew they had to make their own back down the many, many, many steps to get back down.
It was amazing, in ways I don't have the vocabulary to describe... and you'd be bored by it.
The funniest bit was at Park Guell. We stopped off for snacks and Mel bought some snacks that just couldn't be swallowed.
"How can you eat these Mel? They're imposs
ible to swallow."
"Yeah, you can," then she started to choke.
This was followed by a nosebleed.
I ran to get some tissues.
Blood was running everywhere.
"Don't you want to get to the loo to sort that out Mel?"
"I'm embarrassed."
15 minutes later and we were watching some wankers shoot a video under the Guell.
Oh, and we drove through Barcelona FC, which was pretty cool.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
