Saturday, January 31, 2004

Hey Folks,

I found this peach of a resource courtesy of the good old BBC. Use it wisely in the months ahead. Who knows, it may just save your life...

Despite being arguably the most sophisticated military force on the face of the planet, I'm sadly beginning to suspect the US armed forces of being populated by a significant number of individuals reminiscent of the psychopathic helicopter gunner in Full Metal Jacket, who uttered the immortal line "If they run, then they're VC [Viet Cong], and If they stand still, then they're well disciplined VC!" whilst gunning down helpless villagers as his chopper flew past. I'm coming to this conclusion because of an increasing number of incidents like this that are reducing the once favourable impression I held of the professionalism of US personnel. You tell me it was a mistake, but you'd think that after several high profile "mistakes", then you'd be more careful. Personally, I find the idea that it was a case of misidentification very hard to accept and I'm going to outline my theory which I hope will show why.

During the war in Vietnam, the progeny of the aircraft mentioned in the news article were, as now, often decisive weapons. These planes named Spookies, or more affectionately,Puff the Magic Dragon, were instrumental in the successful support of US and allied forces countless times. Frequently, even in the dead of night, they would provide supporting fire scant metres from the "friendlies" on the ground. This is during the late 1960s. My question is how could a far more modern, sophisticated aircraft that the AC-130, with it's sophisticated sensor, navigation and fire control systems to provide surgical firepower make such a telling mistake? As I see it, there are two possible answers: that there was an error with the aircraft's systems that meant the crew simply could not identify the victims as unarmed civilians rather than armed fighters and acted on the basis of the available intelligence data. If this is what transpired, then it is sad and unfortunate but, regardless of how I personally feel, it is unlikely that there will be any charges or other proceedings bought. The other possible conclusion is much more disturbing.

I am beginning to suspect that due to many similar events in Afghanistan and Iraq, where our up to date smart technologies seem to do less than what was possible and standard experience during the Swinging Sixties, that aircrew and other personnel simply do not give due care when they know that no "friendlies" are in the vicinity. This thought disturbs me a great, great deal. The United States, and to a certain extent the UK as well have great, overarching firepower that as we have seen rules triumphant on the battlefield. It is my feeling, however, that with great firepower comes great responsibility and there seems to be a lack of restraint in its deployment. I appreciate that all someone needs to say at this point is "Bloody Sunday. Discuss" to crease up my arguments, but I feel that this little extract is rather telling:

Iraq: Colin Currie on the war interviews military experts...
Colin: Hi. Colin Currie on the radio here. And this week, I'm covering the
Iraqi war. Today I have a British Helicopter Pilot on the hot line, who
recently came under "friendly fire" from American troops. Flight Lieutenant,
can you tell me what happened?
RAF: Well, Colin, after the incident I landed yards from the American
troops, leapt out of my 'copter, and exchanged punches with a US Marine.
Colin: Oh, I see. What happened next?
RAF: I shouted at him: "When was the last time you saw a f******* Iraqi in a
Colin: And?
RAF: The marine and me had to be pulled apart.
Colin: And this was all happening as American troops advanced on the north
of Baghdad, according to US reports from US Central Command in Qatar?
RAF: Correct.
Colin: Well, I have British military spokesman Group Captain Al Lockwood on
the line. Al. Any comments on this?
Lockwood: I'm afraid it would be an RAF kind of thing to do. These guys are
not known for tolerating fools gladly.

(Copyright © 2003 MK Curry Club)

And one wonders when indeed was the last time that he had seen an Iraqi flying a helicopter. If this is how we in the West treat our allies, is it any wonder that there seems to be a lack of due care and attention to the Other?

It depresses me, it really does.

Friday, January 30, 2004

Hey Folks,

Now I have a thing about The Onion, so much so that the reason I chose this template was because it is named Herbert and that put me in mind of Midstate Office's Accounts Receivable Supervisor. I'm not kidding. I love The Onion. It makes me think about a lot of issues, it makes me laugh and sometimes it can be so incredibly poignant as to make me cry. This struck a chord with me, and I could recognise many of the elements of my own childhood in it. It made me feel quite sad and also sorry for my neighbours as they must have known what was going on in our house, but were probably too scared or unsure as to how to confront the issue. Either that, or they were simply pissed off over the state of our garden... Indeed, I can easily imagine the possibility of such a surreal, sublime and absurd situation transpiring in my own life. Who knows, it may still.

Hey Folks,

Well done that man Brian Hutton for finally blowing the lid off the corrupt maniacs that live, troll-like, under the table of the Boardroom at Broadcasting House. God knows what sort of dangerous stuff they were up to but whatever it was, you've gone and put a stop to it. Well done Brian, thank you for that. The country, as do I, give you the utmost thanks for letting the government off the hook like that. I don't think. Actually, it appears that we are rather annoyed. Give us a proper enquiry, headed by a man that actually cares about the truth.

Lord Cullen, your country requires your services once again. Your country needs your unflinching honesty and it needs it now. We beg you, hear our call.

I believe in the BBC.

Click here to find out why.
Hey Folks,

If you're at all like me, you'll often find yourself putting off tasks until you can no longer avoid doing them. I find this, as I'm sure you do too, to be especially the case when it's something unpleasant or going to get me in trouble. For those of you who were wondering, it seems like George W. Bush is not just a crazed proto-cowboy, but he's Just Like Us. Why the fuck did he not do that over a year ago?!

*Bites desk*

Thursday, January 29, 2004

Hey Folks,

Just a small update and maybe a little story too. Way back in my first series of posts, I promised y'all some phat links to repay you for gracing me with your presence. If you look to the right, you can see that I have now added the to the sidebar. Little further, bit more, a pinch mo- Yep! That sidebar... Congratulations!

Now, you'll all realise that I am still very much a novice at this programming lark and HTML remains very much a mystery to me in many respects. One thing I did realise, however, when I was getting to grips with adding these new links was that the HTML tags are actually quite amusing for someone in my position. It seemed to me that whoever was behind HTML, God bless their souls, had all been frequent users of (l/i) as the tags suggest...
Those of you on the same wavelength as me may realise why this template put me in mind to go and change my prescription. Those who aren't, go and look at the Periodic Table until you get the joke. It'll be worthwhile in the end.

All for my own amusement and pleasure, you understand...
Hey folks,

I've been on anti-depressants since the end of August, and I must say that without any shadow of a doubt that it was the best decision I've made in a good long time. I don't find them to be at all stigmatising and the vast majority of people I've encountered and had reason to tell about them have been perfectly understanding about my use of them. I can remember the horror stories of the early 90's where, all too often, headline-crazed journalists would confuse SSRIs with tranquilisers and blame them for all kinds of things. In the past couple of years there's been a resurgence of these fears regarding Seroxat or as it is known in the US, Paxil. This documentary was broadcast several months before I had my breakdown and started treatment, but I had the privilege of knowing two persons, both men, who described their treatment with Seroxat as the best thing that had ever happened to them. Knowing them as I do, I'd tend to agree with them for one in particular was in an extremely bad way. They both, as far as I'm aware, suffered very little, if any, side effects from their treatment. One thing I discovered through my own treatment was just how thirsty SSRIs can make you, and that went some way to explaining why my friend Ron always carries a bottle of water with him. Given that I have never used Seroxat - or, indeed, any other SSRI class medication - I am unqualified to discuss what some people in the programme raised. One issue that I thought was disturbing at the time was the fact, in a few select cases, Seroxat appeared to send depressed, but otherwise normal people totally psychotic and either harmed themselves, or in one harrowing case, killed their entire family. On reflection, however, I came to two conclusions: 1) That these cases were aberrations in the sense that it is totally impossible to prevent severe allergic reactions if there is no foreknowledge available; and 2) That these people, harsh as it seems, would have acted so without the presence of the drug as it takes several weeks for it to build up in the body and to start effecting the brain. Although I was prescribed Citalopram due to the prescribing preference of my GP, I would have been perfectly prepared to be treated with Seroxat given the experiences of my friends and the fact that I had rationally assessed the supposed dangers about the drug. I must say that this drug has been very beneficial for me, as I am no longer as anxious as I was, am significantly less depressed and I am generally able to cope with difficult situations now than I was. Indeed, the only side effects that I suffer are the fact that I too am dry mouthed a lot of the time and that my skin seems a lot thinner than it used to be. To my touch, the skin on my hands feels papery and I have difficulty holding hot objects like coffee cups and it has reduced my enjoyment of cookery somewhat. I did lose my appetite for a while, but that came back by itself after a week or so, and I am glad that it did. All in all, the benefits far outweigh any side effects of my treatment, and I view myself as incredibly lucky to have had so much success at my first attempt with this type of medication. I'm due to come off them in another couple of months, and we'll just need to see what happens to me then, but I feel that I will be okay without them and I have no reason to suspect that the withdrawal period will be bad. Time will tell.

There are those that say that laughter is the best medicine and for those of you who are depressed and would like one last shot at handling things yourself before getting professional help, I suggest you go here for your first round of treatment. Bear in mind, though, that I am a bit of a Doctor Zoidberg when it comes to giving out advice...

Wednesday, January 28, 2004

Hey folks,

It occurs to me that you - if there is indeed a you out there - may have been wondering where the hell I've been for the past week or so. Well I've been working. So there. Worked a ten hour day no less last Thursday, and given I only work 18 hours a week currently, I think that's quite a bit. Well it works out as sixty four of your Earth pounds so I can't complain, not really anyway, but I will. Spending ten hours in a single day with a retarded client was "challenging" to say the least. It's fair to say that I've been pretty much knackered since. Yes, I know, I'm such a hero... And after that it was off home to meet my parents which also took a lot out of me because as mentioned below, my father is an alcoholic. He has, however, turned over a new leaf - albeit because he nearly died at New Year and my sister ran away - and is now trying to sort his life out. Bizarrely, it was actually more stressful going home prepared for mortal combat and the usual drink-induced rows and them not actually occurring than their actual occurrence. Why? Because over the years I've learned to accept that as normal for us and what I went home to last week was vastly different. It was like visiting the normal homes of my friends and we had all these normal conversations that I've heard other people have but never witnessed in my own home.

Once I'd got over my fright, I was pleasantly surprised. Long may it continue.
Hey folks,

I'm pleased to announce that I'm obviously getting better. It's only fair that I tell y'all how I know this, so here goes. Last night I was talking to one of my friends on MSN Messenger - the only contact I in fact have on MSN apart from my insane alcoholic father (of which much, much more later) - and we were talking about what she'd spent her first wage from her new job on: "Y' know, books off Amazon, stuff for the rats" - pet ones - and I can't say I was surprised by that. Then she dropped her bombshell "...The Darkness CD." Now, I haven't alluded to it here before but those who know me know that I and The Darkness do not mix. Not ever. Now my friend doesn't really have an ironic bone in her body, bless her, and this was what she said, verbatim, in response to my hand wringing "I think he just wants everyone to know they're not taking it all too seriously, they're just out to entertain folks." And that's how I know, folks, that I must be getting better - you just wouldn't say that to someone who was ill, would you?

To quote the president in Perfect Dark "today is going to take a long time to get over"


Friday, January 16, 2004

Hey Folks,

Ha! Telt ye a'd dae it!
Hey Folks,

It occurred to me that if I am going to put my deepest most personal thoughts out there (or is it here?) on the Web, then I might as well benefit - i.e feel less bad about my own situation - from your experiences. Or maybe I just wanted to show that I too could copy and paste stuff into the Blogger template from Haloscan. I did, obviously, and it took me about two minutes. By my next posting, I should be able to supply all those who are trapped here with some good links to go and visit. I've given you a few already, so if you wanna go and hang out there until I'm done, that's okay and I'll give you a shout when your exit's been prepared
Hey Folks,

Just to let you know, I'd stupidly tried to post that entire epistle about this time on Wednesday, but when checking to see if my links were working I clicked close window rather than back. Oops. I was, however quite tired at the time, so I think that there were indeed mitigating circumstances. Anyway, now that I've reconstructed and refined what I had intended to post, I'll give y'all a nice story. I spent Wednesday morning with my client and then I went to the workplace of a friend who is an organiser for a local environmental charity. I had lunch there with him and his colleagues and then I spent the afternoon measuring wood and bolting things together for a project that the charity was going to be working on on Thursday. I was lucky: I got an invite for a meal. Go me. So after we'd left work, we went to my friend's house and I had dinner with him, his wife and their 8 and a half month old son. If I ever get my life sorted out, I'd like very much to be a bit like them for they are some of the nicest and sensible people that I have ever had the privilege to meet.

I also stayed over at their place, and not having any work to do on Thursday, I went along to the project that they were working on. We were assembling wooden planters - i.e a big wooden box - at a primary school in the area. Once we had built the planters, we had to fill the with earth. A lot of earth. Ten tons of it. I actually felt glad that I'd gone along, though, as I hate the thought of my friend and his sole colleague moving all that by themselves. Granted, I was at times a bit of a hindrance as it was my first time on the job, but I am pleased to say that I did all the measuring myself and the planters came together looking as they should have. I felt pretty good about myself. I was also really, really sore, but I shall be going back when I am not working with my client.

The fact that I'm awake at 4.30am is not through lack of sleep - precisely the opposite, in fact. I got home around 7.45pm and promptly fell asleep and then awoke around midnight. I'm drinking decaf so there is still every chance I'll get to sleep some more tonight. I know, I'm scared too...
Hey Folks,

I've decided we need to discuss my choice of salutation, but I'll get to that after I've shared some musings with y'all. I'm a relative newcomer to the world of weblogs. As you can see, this one's been on the go for less than a week but I am also pretty new to reading them too. At first I viewed the whole blog thing as, well, just a little fad-like and I thought it would disappear pretty quickly. So much for uninformed reactionary criticism, eh? I'm no expert, but I'd like to share some amateur observations on blogging trends. Just as an aside, does anybody realise that the Blogger spellcheck doesn't recognise "blog", or even offer an alternative? Yes, I thought so too...

In my travels of the blogosphere - and damned if it ain't gonna have that either - I've noticed some trends in the types of blogs are out there. I've narrowed them down to two categories, of which the first has two subcategories and I'll give a brief rundown to try and get my point across. Once I've done the point, I shall get to the Point and all shall be revealed. The two main categories are Blogs About Stuff and Personal Blogs. Now, just in case I get all enthused and forget to highlight it, please note that there can be a great deal of crossover between these two categories so I'm just clearing that up now. Let me begin.

Blogs About Stuff : We all know these blogs, these are the ones that seek to get information out to people in the wider world to tell us what is happening in the writer's society. The Baghdad Blogger is the classic example, and this, I believe, is the original Blog About Stuff. And it is serious stuff, very serious. Complimentary to blogs like these are examples such as this blog. Now while this blogger is not in danger of being shot dead on the streets of Baghdad, the author still serves a very useful function and has an important place in my theory. Basically, the two blogs in the first subcategory - I should know, after all, for this is my theory - are Information blogs. The former provides raw, primary source data and the latter adopts a position of commentary. To carry my analogy a little further, imagine if you will a broadsheet quality newspaper. The Baghdad Blogger is the frontline journalist and is where the action is. If not directly involved, the FLJ will know people who are and will be forwarding their views and experiences. Meanwhile, in the Editorial and Comments section of our newspaper, September is providing us with reasoned and cool analysis of sources such as the FLJ and others. After all, it is far easier to be cool and reasoned when there's little danger of tank shells coming through your window. Blogs like these, working in tandem but unknown to each other, seek to enhance the knowledge of the layperson even if only by a little amount. These bloggers seem to do because of some sort of vocational urge and they answer that call effectively.

The next subcategory in our Blogs About Stuff section is one that covers lives and experiences that are as far divorced from my own, and I suspect the lives of many others too, as those events and experiences detailed above. This is what I'm talking about. Again, it serves only as an example that I am familiar with and should not be deemed as representative. Maybe it is, as I said, this is a life far divorced from my own reality. This blog fascinates me precisely because it is so far from my own existence, what I have experienced, that I find it hard to believe that stuff like this actually exists. Although blogs like these blur the line between Blogs About Stuff and Personal Blogs, I feel that the level of insight she provides us takes us beyond both the realms of a personal journal and titillation, although these undoubtedly form some basis for her motivation. There is no escaping the voyeuristic nature of these blogs. You know that you shouldn't look, but you still do. You can't help it. I find that reading the archives of blogs like these to be like watching the collected works of Louis Theroux. Whilst on acid. And driving a sportscar at 150mph. If we are to consider blogs like these within our metaphor, then this is sheer tabloid blogging. It gets you off, the reader has to know more. If Sex and the City were to be written by Dickens, then this is probably like what it would look like...

Now, to the second Category. Personal Blogs: In the way that blogs that are about serious issues have the personal element too that makes them human, blogs that are personal missives can be serious too, and often are. Ivan Noble'sTumour Diary is a case in point. Although not strictly a blog, it is representative of the category. It provides us with the harrowing details of living a life while coping with a malignant brain tumour. It's beautiful and harrowing at the same time. Read it if you dare. Personal Blogs can be funny, moving, sexy, boring, poignant, well written, craply produced. All share, however, the personal element that can be equally voyeuristic as those discussed previously. These blogs record a Life and - Terms of Service permitting - will outlive their author. Ultimately, by surrendering control of our deepest thoughts to the wiles of the Internet, do we lose in essence some of ourselves? We cannot watch our words, keep them safe as we could in a paper diary. It is a question that has bothered philosophers - and more so their students - for centuries.

Now we've had the point, I shall proceed to The Point Of All This: My Blog: I can't decide, yet, if I am writing this just for myself, or if I will allow others to link to it. Even if they did, I would not presume to be knowledgeable enough to want to be seen to be attempting to give advice. At the moment, I am writing this because my doctor thought that it would be helpful to me to express my thoughts in writing. She thought it would be A Good Idea if I kept a diary. Please note, reader, that AGI from a psychiatrist is up there with a policeman telling you to raise your hands but not to turn around, and should be followed accordingly. Diaries scare me, however, I find them to be the same as being trapped with my thoughts inside me. To me, they are claustrophobic entities and as such, do not offer any real form of release. I'm not particularly good at talking to people either - my how the cliches are piling up - and, mostly due to my own recent actions, the number of real people, my friends, that I could talk to has diminished quite severely. So, with these factors in mind, I decided to get me a blog. I only know of two people who have read it, and I'm not sure if I am ever going to take it public, but I do feel better about getting my thoughts down. The blog itself acts as my audience so I'm not sure if I will ever need a readership - but I'll refer to it anyway, as writing stuff down scares me too. I may refer to my illness quite a lot, but I think that that is because it is a part of me and not because I want to tell the world about my relatively minor run in with mental illness. The responsibility of a Blog About Stuff would, well, let's just say it'd make me ill, and I want to get better.

Tuesday, January 13, 2004

Hey Folks,

I may need to put in for a name change. Prometheus stole the secret of fire* from the gods, and Monolith wrested the secret of rocks+ from the gods. Today, I stole the secret of HTML from the gods of the webpage. Actually, in the spirit of unflinching honesty dear readers, I asked SeptemberBlue how to do it and she kindly told me how. So, gods of webpage design, when you go looking for someone with the thumbscrews, go there and wait for her...

Anyhoo, this whole HTML lark was to give you this link: Naked's History Dump and have a look at what I wrote. If you want that is, it's not as if I need your approval or anything...

* You can cook things with
+ You can hit things with

Hey Folks,

A scant 24 hours ago, I was a broken man with no hope, no money and no sleep. I'm still stony broke and I've hardly been to bed since I last spoke to y'all, and I don't have much hope either (? Note to self: learn proper descriptive language for conveying concept of hope for next time). I do now however have my own site with a 2000 word essay posted on it. I rule. As you can see, I've used the hours of darkness well. When I say "can see" please note that I actually mean "will be able to once I've deployed my admin team on the How-the-hell-do-you-add-links-to-a-page-that-doesn't-have-a-box-that-says-Add-Link-? issue" Those few webheads out there that have stopped by to read this can probably guess that my homepage is on Yahoo...

Anyway, I'll be brief. I've worked all day on my essay and webpage and it has given me the type of focus that a six year old gets from their first dozen hits of Ritalin so I'm all fired up for work later. I had my weekly therapy session yesterday afternoon and it went well with nothing innocuous to report. The only thing I've found is that it tires me right out and gives me the focus levels that a sixteen year old gets from it's first hit of GHB...

As I sign off, it's snowing. It's pretty.

Monday, January 12, 2004

Hey Folks

If you're reading this hot off the presses then you shall not be too surprised to see that it's approximately 6.35am. I didn't make it all the way to bed tonight and although I've love to say that the reason was because I went wild and brought a hot girl home and that we were so over-sexed that we ended up doing it on the hall carpet, it wasn't the case. We didn't even get in the fro - ah, forget it, I'm not even fooling myself here... Committed readers from entries one and two will know how unlikely such a scenario is. New people won't. So pay attention! Yes, you. At the back. With the gum. Ah, you know the rule don't you? Yes. Whassat? You haven't got a piece for everybody? How dare you! Get out of my blog! And don't come back until you've got some gum! And some hookers! But I digress.

I'm coming to the conclusion that I don't actually need to sleep any more. I feel like that X-Files episode that had the guy who played Candyman - I know his name is Tony Todd, but you may not - who was a Vietnam veteran by the name of the Preacher who had had some sort of operation to turn him into a sleepless killing machine. To all intents and purposes he seemed pretty homicidal and maniacal to begin with so I think they were most interested in making sure he didn't nod off for a quick forty winks whilst on stag of an evening. Anyway, this guy hadn't had a night's sleep in 20-odd years - remember this was the early nineties - and he was beginning to get a tad "upset" shall we say, with the whole thing. Which is understandable. Why is it the homicidal Vietnam veterans never seem to take a deep breath, count to ten and relax? I dunno. Answers on a postcard to the usual address, folks and you too could win a lifetime's supply of anti-depressants. Anyway, when I said that I felt like the Preacher*, I didn't mean that I was going to run around wreaking havoc and slaying my old buddies through the use of terrifying hallucinations - dedicated readers may well see a pattern forming - but I can emphasise with his position. This guy hadn't had a wink of sleep in decades and tonight, this very early morning actually, as I write this, I genuinely feel that I could go on forever with no sleep. My life expectancy effectively doubled, I know I'm going to get really bored really quick so I got thinking about what I was going to do about it. Go me. I've got a job, now, working for a charity that helps adults with learning difficulties live their own lives in their own homes, so that takes care of the daylight hours where I am pretty fulfilled by the job and the situations I encounter through it. What to do in the hours of darkness though? Then it hit me: In my other life, the life that effectively stopped in August, I was a student at university. I was on the cusp of greatness and then it all came crashing down around my head. Now this set of circumstances was eminently foreseeable because I played more than a minor role in my downfall, but it still pangs a bit at how much I've lost lately. Maybe one day I'll tell all, but then again I am a past master at bottling things up so maybe not. But I digress again. As I was sitting playing patience on the PC, I was struck by just how pointless and pathetic it was just the constant click card, click card, deal, for hours and hours, my brain just turning to mush. I've decided I'm not going to throw away my education. Even if I can't, or if I'm not allowed to return to university, I shan't throw away what I've learned. So I am going to dedicate these long and sleepless nights to study and keep my brain warm on the off-chance that I'll get to use in a more productive manner than currently.

* The Preacher was the nickname of the character Agustus Cole, played by Tony Todd, in Episode 2.4 "Sleepless" of the X-Files. All you pedants that knew this already, and thought that I didn't - y'all know who you are - should be ashamed of yourselves for coming down here to put the boot into such an easy target as a mentally ill man. I showed you what's what didn't I? Let that be a lesson to you. It's okay, though, we can still be friends...

Sunday, January 11, 2004

Hey Folks,

I had an interesting night last night. Despite sharing the same cloak of flesh that y'all posses, I operate to slightly different standards than the rest of you. Let me explain: Yesterday was Saturday and for most of you an "interesting" Saturday would involve a trip to the pub or other such destination with your friends, significant others or whoever the hell you hang around with at the weekends. I too knew such simple joys of going to the pub, drinking a skinful, and then walking home singing as many of the songs from Les Miserables that we had time for. But that, dear reader, was in my youth and I've let my standards drop considerably since then. Last night I had an interesting night because it rained. Yes. Rained. "You live in one of the most rain soaked areas of the planet, how the hell can you call that interesting?!" I hear you cry, but bear with me for all shall be explained. It was interesting because I live in a basement, a basement that has three other floors above it, and the rain still managed to wake me. It didn't wake me up due to it seeping into my mattress or dripping through my window which is a good think as it would have only added another tragi-comic level to the story and goodness knows that there's enough of those sorts of levels here already. Anyway, we had a massive outpouring of a storm last night that summoned me from the depths of sleep with the racket it was making. If it woke me up, then I actually feel sorry for the rabbits that live in the hutch that sits outside my window as it was being pounded by thousands of gallons of water. I can tell you from careful observation of this aqua assault phenomenon that a rabbit hutch roofed with corrugated iron will start resonating to a frequency of 33hz after approximately 7 minutes and 19 seconds of said assault. So now you know what drove me from my bed, and I do feel truly sorry for those bunnies. Anyway, once I was awakened, I found it - as I sadly often do these days - impossible to get back to sleep. I consider myself lucky, though, in that I'd managed to get about 5 hours of said sleep before waking up, because my nightly average over the past week or so has been about three hours. Ladies and gentlemen, I am an insomniac, but my insomnia is the wrong way around. I even manage to screw up and otherwise complicate a simple thing like not being able to get to sleep. Even I marvel at my patheticness sometimes. Okay, yes, all the time. I also had a really interesting - remember what I said about that - series of hallucinations that kept me entertained for a few hours, then I got up and went to church. It struck me as I was sitting in my pew, and I'm sure that I am far from the first to reach this conclusion, that your classical Biblical era figures, had they had the same hallucinations I did, would have been positively overjoyed "right then, that's another million followers for me!", and would have been breaking out the wild honey and locusts before you could even think Herodias, never mind say it.

Instead, in our supposedly more enlightened and modern society, if I mention my nighttime visitors tomorrow to my psychiatrist, she'll be thinking what new drugs to try me out on. I can't say I blame her, because after seeing me every week for the last few months she is, I have to say, bearing up remarkably well. I'm proud of her progress, I really am. She's a trooper. This brings me back to the issue at hand. Due to the effects of poor genetics and the supposedly counterbalancing effects of psychoactive drugs I find a great many things interesting these days: the fact that I can't sleep and hallucinate are just two of them. I do however, know that I'm doing it and that is an all-important distinction, as is to be actually capable of rational thought. My friends would argue that if I am indeed capable of any rationality then that must truly be a miracle - or medicinally induced - because I certainly never was before. Being this way is quite fun sometimes as I certainly don't mind the upswing, when I'm all hyperactive, happy and get stuff done, but hopefully future segues to the world of black dog will be mercifully brief. We'll just need to wait and see.

I'm sorry, maybe I should add some form of disclaimer to the effect that it warns you that if you are looking for one of those blogs that is funny, about prostitution or otherwise going to be capable of winning a Guardian prize*, then you shall know just to go somewhere else because I can't promise that you'll be at all satisfied. Conversely, if you're here to find a blog that is full of self-loathing and bittersweet recollections then this may well be the place for you.

*Once I have the know how, I fully intend to post links to these blogs of fun, prostitution and prizewinning so that you, the casual happy visitor, can navigate away from this page as swiftly as you can click Scary Duck and not be troubled by my plight. I'm kind to people that way...

Saturday, January 10, 2004

Hey Folks,

This is the first in what may or may not be a long series of entries. It's purpose, currently - as with 99.95% of all other blogs out there, I suspect - is to give me a place where I can have a good old vent and get my issues off my chest. And onto yours. Because I'm nice like that. Ha! Take that World! The regularity of updates will depend entirely on my motivation, and also, if I am being honest whether I can keep my various multitude of account names and passwords straight - so we'll need to see how it all goes. I will tell you that I have no useful internet publishing skills whatsoever so the gloss that you're all by no doubt used to seeing on every one else's blog may be a little lacking to start with, but I hope to get that in hand as soon as I can make myself do it. Also, if it bothers you that much, then you can just turn right the hell around and go again. While I'm training in the black arts of webness, the content will be at home cheerfully amusing itself with matches and on strict instructions not to disturb the neighbours. It's old enough to look after itself. Tallyho!