New Socks etc

WHY are socks so expensive? I bought just three pairs today ~ as nearly all my other pairs have holes in them ~ and they cost £5. When I got them home I realized why. Because they're knee length and woolen. But the others they had on display were just too thin. Would get holed straight away...

I keep getting these ill feelings I don't know why. There's no point going to a GP, the GP won't be able to help me. I need a psychiatrist. I feel really wooly headed. I keep waking up what feels too early. I don't want to go into it any further than this. I'm just really glad I'm taking the pills and am trying to remember to take them like clockwork every night.

Did the news about that Italian cruise ship go worldwide? It's lying there off the coast of Italy like a sunken city. Even from beyond the clouds it looks huge...



Lion "attacks" child through glass at Wellington Zoo...



Deepside: Shudder (1992)



Have a nice day/evening everyone...

Midwinter Feeling

IT IS ICE COLD here in London. The weather forecast said "normal weather for January". It feels a lot colder than normal. I sleep under four layers, I'm so cold. You can see passers by's breath as they go past.

I had a bad reaction to some tea I drank the other day. Four cups over the course of an afternoon was enough to put me on a high then a down. The up and the down turbulently mixed together and I felt very paranoid and weird. I think I'm hypersensitive to caffeine. Two cups of strong tea in the morning seems to be OK. I've had one today to see if I feel any better than on two. I might have to cut out tea and caffeine altogether. It never made me feel "high" until I got a manic "high" last year. But it did used to make me anxious, which made me give it up for a few years, and the anxiety flew away.

I have been feeling mentally wobbly for a while and had a really crap day yesterday. Paranoia and depression with anxiety: but paranoid, depressed and anxious about nothing at all and everything simultaneously.

If I wasn't on antipsychotics I think I'd be having a really bad time.

I was going to talk about tiny tits in the trees but I haven't seen any. Blue tits that is. When we had a birdfeeder when I was a child, our garden seemed to be full of them and great tits, which are slightly bigger.

I hope you all are feeling OK.

I finally get paid tomorrow which is a relief as I got the current non-lot of money early because of the new year. Which means it's gone quicker. I've had to borrow £15 just to survive. I must have spent it carefully as I still had £5 yesterday...

My foot is slowly healing. Maybe the vitamins from the salads help with it..? Who knows. I know that eating salad is meant to be better than not eating it. I know it's not very wintery but it's the only veg I can stomach at the moment (apart from baked beans which allegedly count towards the 5 portions a day recommended by The Government.

And last but not least my methadone has finally gone down to 55mg and is going down to 35mg over the next ten weeks. It's all planned out so no need for doctors' appointments between now and then. I can't wait to get OFF the stuff completely. Really can't wait! If all it's going to do is make me feel "normal" why not feel normal on nothing? I'm taking the last bit slowly though. Don't want to be one of those people who goes running back screaming on to it again. I know a LOT of people are said to do that. I can think of two off the top of my head. Well time's ticking must go... see ya next week.



Illustrated: a blue tit in the snow

Relapse

EVERYTHING'S gone pear-shaped this past week. I completely lost my Mojo thanks to depression. Depression turned me to heroin. Heroin made me "happy" for a while. I want the clinic to reduce my methadone dose so I can get off off off all these opiates. As long as I'm on a level dose the itch to use is there. When the dose is declining I feel galvanized towards getting clean. That's how my psychology works. I can't see any life any future. I asked a friend who's on Subutex after 35 years plus on heroin whether he feels his life is over now and he said of course it's over that's why I'm seeing a psychiatrist. I would like to see some examples of people who come off opiates and actually live as productive members of society instead of committing suicide. I would have thought suicide was the more popular option. There's not much to say I'm crowding in here in a bad mood shopping bags and all. Food shopping. Not interesting shopping. I've got to go now.

Dentists Done

SORRY I HAVE BEEN AWAY. My computer got briefly restored, then fused. So it's totally dead now and has to go in the repair shop down the road.

I have been feeling very depressed. I was hypomanic for just two days. Of course the second of these had to be when I was seeing the doctor at the druggie service plus my worker. My worker was visually backing off from me, I was talking so much and probably too loudly about the ins and outs of my long term heroin addiction in the waiting room. Then the next day I crashed!

I have been tempted to use heroin but only through sheer desperation. When I was still in a good mood I bought three good films in French, German and Spanish: La Vie En Rose; The Baader Meinhof Complex and Dark Habits by Pedro Amodovar (whatever his name is). La Vie En Rose, which is the life story of Edith Piaf, who grew up between a brothel and a circus, earned a living busking and was discovered by a nightclub owner named Louis Leplée. I love that film so much I have seen it four or five times already. It has been the only thing that brought meaning to my last days that have been so miserable.

I did see my Mum yesterday and I wrote her a letter explaining the past. I don't know if she liked what she read. I was beating myself up afterwards for being too frank. I didn't look at the letter in the five days between writing it and handing it over. I think I have a problem with over-frankness, the opposite of most people. I felt ill all day though it was really nice to see her. By ill I mean like a crotchety 108 year old who can't do anything without getting tired easily. My Mum seemed OK I hope she didn't notice my poor health. I really feel ill and I'm only calling it "depression" because I know from experience that's what it probably is, but I've been feeling physically sick, exhausted and as if my life is over.

I went to the dentist today for the second of two appointments and got my upper teeth cleaned (the lower ones were done last week) and had two fillings. The lignocaine took over twenty minutes to work and had to be injected twice into my lower gums until it froze me up so good I can still barely speak!

I think/hope I am starting to feel better. I am dreading next having to see a psychiatrist (whenever I get one) and having to explain my dreadful mental health. Ukh. Oh well not worth worrying about now. I have to ping off as I'm about to be terminated I will try and get in touch with some of you tomorrow.

I have to go; I'm feeling bad already.

Thanks Bimbimbie

THIS PICTURE is courtesy of my Aussie friend Bimbimbie, whose name means "birdie-wirdie" or "place of the birds" in the local aboriginal dialect. She knows red king parrots or "king reds" as I call them are my favourites and this is what flapped down from the trees only a few hours ago.

If you go to Bimbimbie's blog you'll find endless snapshots of rainbow lorrikeets, sulphur-crested cockatoos and other delicacies direct from her garden.

So this is my feathery Friday on Saturday. Thanks Bimbimbie!

As y'all may have noticed I have been feeling down and flat for nearly a month now. I'm hoping the mood swing is petering out. Because that's all it is, a mood swing. Just as my OTT excitements are mood swings too. It's hard to accept that how I feel is labelled and illness. The "sickness" part lies not in the undulations but in the extremity of the the highs and lows. I have been "high" enough to be hallucinating voices from the walls, have seen spirals everywhere, especially in ceilings, which I stared at a lot, seeeing as I was going "up". I once saw a purple face appear in a man's neck at the Nutter Club I used to attend before it was disbanded due to lack of funding (my one lifeline snatched from me ~ thanks NHS) so I have had extremes. I've also had weird ideas when I was low but am too paranoid to describe them in any detail. Not because they're real to me now. More that they're too embarrassingly nutty.

Well I wanted to ask y'all who've followed this space for a long time, do I really seem nuttier now than I was before the last year when I knew I was labelled "schizoaffective"? I'm not sure I'm any madder than I ever was (between the extremes). Just that there's a name to it. I am, I believe, what is known as a cyclothymic personality. That just means someone whose moods swing up and down, in and out, like high and low tides. You could say we're all cyclothymic then, but it's a matter of degree. I'm rarely on a truly even keel for very much more than a week. In bad periods I seem to have been up down left and right all the time for weeks and weeks on end. I am not claiming to have been at the very extreme of how up down left right it is possible to be. Merely that I was to some degree in some such direction.

Well this is solipsistic twaddle yet again. I am trying to heal. I am doing my Spanish every single day for at least half an hour if not 90 minutes or more. Every single day. Without fail. Everything else has been half-cocked as my sleep has increased in line with my depressed mood and low energy. I think some days I must have been sleeping 16 hours. Not in one single go, but endless dozes, then ultra long periods in bed. I haven't timed myself as i'm no longer interested.

There was a time when I knew something was wrong, didn't know what it was, knew most of the doctors were barking up the wrong tree by calling it depression triggered by drug abuse (when actually I abused heroin because I never felt truly well and heroin did make me feel truly well. At least for the first couple of years. Thereafter I was truly addicted. So take from that what you will but don't take this as my blessing that anybody young, lost and vulnerable ought to experiment with hard drugs. I would be horrified if anybody got themselves a habit because of me. I'm anti drugs yet still a drug addict (on 99% methadone; 1% heroin ~ it's that 1% I'm fighting against). Hence the shifting sands of viewpoint you'll encounter here.

Now I must go it's getting late. Have a marvellous weekend everybody thanks again Bimbimbie, and don't get pecked by a king red!

8 Days a Week

I JUST REALIZED it's been over a week since I posted. In that week I have been eating, sleeping and feeling down. Today I went to the clinic where I was supposed to see a doctor. I would have given in a dirty test, like an idiot and the dr wasn't around. So I asked my worker, can't I come in this time next week when I'll be clean and he said OK. My dose is going down by 5mg. I have to come in on Thursday to collect the reduced script.

A friend lent me a the Three Colours movie trilogy. It's in French so I thought I might better myself by watching it.

I'm still learning Spanish every day. Playing those CDs over and over. £35 for 2400 words vocab is not at all bad. 2400 words is enough to start leafing through magazines and simple books. I've always wanted to speak Spanish, since childhood. I haven't dropped my Oriental goals, I just got fed up of substandard teaching materials eg books that printed Chinese characters in such heavy type you could not work out what on earth was there.

Well that's me for this week. Boring as ever. I hope you all are OK and better than I am.

I wonder how Anna Grace is out there in Wisconsin. Been a LONG time since that one commented here....

Clearly Unclear

LAST NIGHT I had about 7 hours' sleep; that's not very much for me. I've been feeling headfucked and down of late; precisely how I feel when I'm about to become hyped up and hyper. Maybe I'm just depressed though.

I made a call today. I'm half interested in going back into counselling. But there are provisos: person-centred is out. I only did well in psychodynamic deeper counselling. No time limit. The 2 year time limit the time before last got extended by 6 months but 2.5 years was barely enough to scratch the surface. And lastly no fees. And I'm not getting into anything longterm in the London Borough of Evil where I presently and resentfully reside. I want to Go Home Again. Back Home Where I Belong.

I wish I could have some manic energy back. Darkness and winter are closing down around us.

I just wish I could feel OK again. I'm taking the pills; I'm taking the methadone. The methadone is doing my head in; dose is far too high. I want off that crap as fast as possible.

I try to structure my days with books in different languages but I have no drive. I want to curl into a ball. I'm too far gone to be OK again ~ maybe. Maybe that's my problem... Too far gone. Do you think so? I don't know any more. I've turned my attention back to my house and the giant clear-out session I still need to do. So that is where I am now. Clearing, clearing, clearing!

Better Already

I REALIZED while rushing to the chemist that I feel WAY BETTER than I have in days. Not so paranoid. More to the point, not so depressed.

I'm only 28 pages from the end of my French novel. That and 6 Feet Under, an everyday tale of folks living above a funeral home, have been soundtracks to my life.

No I don't think 6 Feet Under has depressed me. It's the best TV series I've ever seen. I like Billy the bipolar brother who keeps coming off my meds. People who do that are shockingly irresponsible and should be institutionalized!

I hope you like the furry chinchilla picture? I really would love a chinchilla or three (as long as they had huge wheels to ramble upon). They need a special "marble" which is a stone chopping board you slam in the freezer to be lovely and cold in summer. As dwellers of the high Andes, chinchillas find summer captivity unbearable ~ sometimes to the point of death.



I can't really keep a chinchilla. The nearest tiny equivalent is the Russian or Djungarian hamster also known as a "winter white" because its winter fur tones with the snow. They also have thick luxuriant fur, with fur on the soles of their feet; they also take dust baths and like chinchillas probably do need a "marble". Mine looked close to death one summer's day (thanks guidebook for giving no warning of this). They perked up immeasurably rambling on a tray of ice-cubes. Before y'all call me an animal-torturer, remember these are Siberian hamsters. And if they didn't want to be on the ice, they'd have walked off it.

Anyway I have to go have a charming weekend everybody.

PS has anyone else seen Made In Chelsea? Docusoap. One character is heir to the McVite's biscuit empire. I like the blonde girl with the kind eyes. I don't know her name yet. She went on the fishing trip where the other girl put a live maggot on her tongue. That's a true sign of class ~ not being afraid of dung and wiggly things. If you don't believe me, observe the reactions of lower class people around dirt. They act like they're too perfect to get dirty. True upper class people never do. I met the upper classes at university. They're OK.
I try to be classless (which makes me middle-class). How about you...?


Illustrated: chinchilla in ball with cat looking on; winter white hamsters in summer; winter white hamsters in winter...

Not Feeling Well

I DON'T FEEL AT ALL WELL. I think a doctor would call it "depression" but it feels like so much more. Like something's gone badly wrong; that something is about to go wrong. That I can do nothing about it. I'm back on my meds, even though I hate them, even though I want to change tablets yet haven't a doctor who will do this for me because only a psychiatrist is willing to take responsibility and I'm between psychiatrists. I need a psychiatrist. I'm on page 315 of the book I'm reading or rather skimming through in French noting down unfamiliar words. Only another 50 pages to go then I'll be lost because "reading" this book is all I've done for the past week. It takes away the pain. I'm not sure I would have the verve to focus on a book in English. Not without whizzing through it on fastforward; the exact opposite to what I'm doing in French. Once I finish the present volume I'm meant to read it slowly from page one, homemade glossary in one hand explaining to me each and every single expression I do not know; but I don't know if I'm up to it. I can but try I suppose. I have to go now; I'm still computerless. I hope you all are OK. Don't worry about me I'm not doing or about to do crack; that was a complete abbarration. I actually enjoy being clean nowadays. More than I ever enjoyed being on drugs. In some strange sort of way. If that makes sense. More than anything I long for the end of my script; for the day when I'm finally methadone-free and everything-free and can tell myself that nightmare, 11 years and counting of constant opiate addiction is finally and at long, long last... OVER. OVER AND DONE WITH.

Done in

BOTH MY COMPUTER AND I are done in. The computer has to go to hospital. I'm not going to hospital they would never let me in. So much for giving up drink by the way. I feel far more depressed now than I ever did when I was drinking. I crashed on Friday and have been sleeping endlessly ever since. I only feel bad when I wake up. I am supposed to be seeing Valium Marilyn today. Don't actually want to. She's depressive too. Together on a day like this we are like Laurel and Hardy with no humour.

I have to go to that shitty drug clinic tomorrow. They are persecuting me for being mentally unreal. Their job is to dish out scripts and let me go. They have no input in my life. I'm getting clean for myself, not for them. On the plus side I do have a new worker. On the minus side "better the devil you know" and they are a bunch of demonists in there. I'm not a criminal so they have no right to force me into anything against my will.

The latest thing is some blood test they want. Well good luck finding a vein. The titration nurse said to me "for all we know you could be dying" which only made me laugh. If only. If this my getting methadone truly is contingent on this mysterious test then I'll get it. Otherwise I'm not having no test for no-one. In this country we have a right to refuse treatment no matter how serious the condition. And I made a pact with myself long ago that if I'm ever seriously ill I will go for nothing bar palliative care. Being ill like that is a sign that I'm meant to die. And I'm not going to cheat fate.

That's all.


Illustration: the letterhead my drug clinic SHOULD use.

Clipped Wings

I WANDER ABOUT feeling tired and lost. Like a bird with clipped wings, I should be soaring. Yet all I do is wander lost on the cruel earth.
I know my blog has descended to depths of ridiculous absurdity. I hope you all think I'm one of those who posts what I would have done if only I had the guts. That my blog is not a faithful account of deeds and misdeeds. EXAMPLE: me blaring out Barbra Streisand's Yentl and Chinese lessons first thing in the morning thinking I was following my true spirit, that everyone else was hopelessly uptight and sad for sleeping and not doing as I did. Why do I do these stupid things? Only the week before I had been musing on how calm I felt, how glad I was not to be bipolr anymore. How I enjoyed NOT being manic and on the drugs that were supposed to prevent this.

First sign of anything bar the pissiest weakest elevated mood and the antipsychotics went out the window, as did almost every other shred of common sense and I was ranting, roaring, raging, laughing, and wasting a hell of a lot of energy doing nothing. Thankfully the residual effet of the drugs would have been in me, preventing true mania from taking off. Which was why this attack was what I would have called "piss-weak mania" adding how much "I hate weak things" ~ meaning hypomania as opposed to mania with psychotic features, which is when you really feel wired to the national electricity grid. Fantastic!! And the chaos, like the mania, really is full-blown.

Oh what is wrong with me and why am I so STUPID. It's one thing to have "mental health problems"; quite Another to be STUPID. I wish I had a doctor, which I don't. I want quetiapine (Seroquel). Risperidone is making me excessively anxious and I cannot abide a drug that makes me need Valium on top. That is ridiculous. As for growing women's bressts, I meant what I said about making a fortune in prostitution on the back of them ~ that's exactly what I'd do if I grew tits. Gotta turn lemons to lemonade. Gotta cash in.



I'm sorry to Janice and everyone else I've offended with my suicide talk. Death is what I think of. Wouldn't you, if you were a great loser like me? I wish anonymous would actually shoot me dead not just talk about it. Being as Anonymous is all talk and life is crap I decline to be involved in such sordidness. I don't really want to commit suicide I just wnnt to die when I feel like that. Then I have all the benefits of being dead... I could possibly get off the self-"murder" aspect by claiming to be non-human. Which is quite possibly true. Anyway I'm going to try not to talk about suicide any more, for a month at least. It irritates me probably more than it irritates you. And I feel y'all are very irritated indeed by it.

What would you do if you were me? There's no answer to my problems and I feel I should never have been born. I feel like a post-Hiroshima baby who should have been aborted by nature, yet wasn't... Awful awful awful.



I'm not severely depressed by the way. According to Emil Kraepelin, author of Manic Depressive Insanity and Paranoia I have manic spells going as high as delirious mania (as high as you can go) but the reverse state is little more than morbid moodiness. Not true depression at all. Meaning there's nothing whatever wrong with me.

Videos 1: Coloring book 2: Life Story ~ "your life story began with somebody else" one of my exes once got totally the wrong impression when I wandered about singing this song. Guilty or what?! Hey that's the name of the album ha ha har. Illustrations: birds' clipped wings
Video 3: Hideaway from the "Guilty Too" album; written for Babys by Garry Gibb of the BeeGees.

More looting and rioting

MY LOCAL SHOPS, including the 24-hour convenience stores are all SHUT this evening thanks to widespread rumours of rioting in this area tonight. I've already heard vulgar voices outside my window and am armed and dangerous. Anyone who dares come in will be getting it bigtime.]

I didn't mean to imply rioting was good in my previous post: I was merely describing the carnival atmosphere down Wood Green High Road yesterday morning. Soon as I got off the bus there were crowds of people gawping at the smashed windows of HMV -- CDs and DVDs everywhere as if a hurricane had hit the shop. T Mobile was completely vandalized. McDonalds strangely missed out -- possibly because nobody wanted to loot a rancid Big Mac. Neither of the big supermarkets got it either. Mostly sportswear stores: JD and Footlocker, electrical shops and places selling DVDs etc. Police were in attendance but not exactly guarding the looted premises and this WAS about looting and not rioting the true riot was in Tottenham. No evidence of petrol bombs to be seen. I could easily have crawled into HMV and just helped myself to Barbra Streisand memorabilia. I was still a bit manic yesterday (that's why I was in such a good mood on top of the carnival atmosphere of the place). I was in a very good mood indeed when my stingy crackhead friend came back and repaid my 25 quid. Reason he hadn't repaid was that he's basically gone and got himself a crack habit. That's what's happened. Even his immaculate wife was piping away and they wouldn't give me a pipe because they've seen me on crack and it's not pretty. I indulged in heroin instead. To be frank I was suspecting my chemist had watered my dose because I felt ill ALL THE TIME. The heroin did at least put me to sleep ALL NIGHT for the first time in days on end. I also fell asleep in my chair, like a normal person. If you can't fall asleep in front of the telly there's pretty much no point going to bed in my book. Yes I do feel weak and idiotic for taking heroin. I wish they hadn't come round now the longer they stayed the grottier I felt I was so incredibly tired and so thoroughly enjoyed sleeping in this morning it was a real luxury. Also whenever I tried to get up I was too chilly for words. I have some mystery illness, I know I have. What the bloody hell it is I haven't the faintest idea but the symptoms are these: farting, sweating, chills (having to wear a Russian hat in August), physical fatigue and insomnia (3 hours'sleep a night) plus mental feelings similar to being high on coke. What illness is that? I know the mental side is called hypomania but what about the physical symptoms? Also I'm dreaming of Barbra Streisand?... She's singing me the most beautiful lullabyes. My family once told me Leona Lewis had a better voice than Streisand because it sounds normal and not nasal but NOBODY beats Streisand in the singing stakes. Have you ever heard anyone who sounds even remotely like Barbra Streisand? I haven't. Whitney Houston is arguably superior because her voice is stronger and more even. But Whitney has completely destroyed her voice by all accounts -- freebasing cocaine. Silly bitch! BTW I'm talking voice-as-instruent here not choice of songs. If musical repertoire were the criteria for greatest pop star Madonna would beat everybody hands down!

Now I must check my tex mex pizza. I stocked up on cloudy lemonade at 54p for 2 litres and Old Jamaica ginger beer at 1.04 for 2 litres on special offer. Even Morrisons were closing early in terror. So far the unrest has spread to Hackney where there are no decent shops my friend Tommy Tired used to live on Graham Road so what anyone can loot from Hackney apart from dealers'supplies of gear, crack and evil cannabis I've not the faintest idea!

My Dad is telling me now not to move anywhere near the main shops but I think community nuthouses are on twee suburban roads like the one in Posh Park. I so much hope I get the chance to move out there I have just had enough of living as I do. Did you know I once kept my washing up in the shower for 6 months because I couldn't face doing it? The Posh Park nuterhouse has shared kitchen and living room so I can watch telly with schizophrenics instead of watching telly on my own and bouncing my balls forlornly on the ceiling to piss off the 2faced dole scrounger downstairs (claiming benefits yet driving an enormous car and barely ever in residence so my chances of actually disturbing him bouncing a ball at 4 in th emorning are about one percent!)

Shit I forgot 3 cheese coleslaw to go with my tex mex pizza. Ho-hum. I did get Onken chocolate flakes in vanilla yogurt with little chocolate strawberry hearts to dunk in it. I don't know what the health benefits of live yogurt are meant to be but somedays yogurt is literally the only thing I can stomach...!

O well I have to ride out the night on ginger beer and lemonade. I've given up alcohol! Haven't had a drink since Friday (I think: I'm not doing that one day at a time yet I'm counting the days thing). ALL the shops are now shut. If we do get a riot outside I'll post full details I promise you!

RIOTS SPREAD ACROSS LONDON: LATEST
Starting at 4:20pm, vulgarians kicked off the unrest in Hackney. Further flashpoints went off in Lewisham and Peckham (really scummy inner London suburbs way too vulgar for me to stray near!) Hackney's OK though. Nicer than Tottenham. Wood Green is the nicest place to have riots so far. I used to know someone who lived in Wood Green...

PLACES THAT BELONG TO YOU (VOCAL VERSION)
Love theme from The Prince of Tides - a brilliant film about a bipolar poet hospitalized after a serious suicide attempt. Nick Nolte plays the irritable city-hating brother, drawn to New York purely for his sister (the poet's) sake. Streisand is the psychiatrist. What starts as clinical unravelling of his sister's past turns into a love story...



PS MY CHINESE IS COMING ALONG FANTASTICALLY I GOT FULL MARKS IN THE END-OF-UNIT TEST. FAIR DOS IT WAS UNIT 1 BUT YOU GOTTA START SOMEWHERE!!


0016hrs RIOT UPDATE: EALING BROADWAY (W LONDON) HAS JUST ERUPTED; VIOLENCE IN NOTTING HILL (W CENTRAL); CROYDON (SOUTH) BURNING AND A NONFATAL SHOOTING. E HAM (EAST) ON FIRE. FIRES AND GLASS ALL OVER HACKNEY'S STREETS (NORTH-EAST). AND THE VIOLENCE HAS SPREAD OUT OF LONDON TO BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND'S FAMOUSLY VULGAR SECOND CITY... (ALL THE INNER CITY OPPRESSIVE ATMOSPHERE OF THE WORST OF LONDON BUT NO HARRODS, NO BUCKINGHAM PALACE, NO TUBE. ukh!)

LONDON IS THE ONLY CITY I'D LIVE IN APART FROM NEW YORK, TOKYO, PARIS, BERLIN ETC...


DAILY TELEGRAPH 0020HRS Violence spreads across London.

If you want to hear the latest, the best link is, BBC RADIO LONDON (phone-in station)...


SAM, YOU MADE THE PANTS TOO LONG
a highly intellectual song with emotionally complex lyrics. Not.

London Town Is Burning Down

WE HAD RIOTS IN LONDON last night and the night before. It all kicked off in Tottenham where a vigil for a boy shot dead by police blew up. shops were looted, buildings burned out. This spread to nearby Wood Green where shops the length of the High Road were smashed up, earthquake style. Last night the looting spread to Enfield, which is up the road from Wood Green Tottenham and even across the river to Brixton, a famously vulgar inner City suburb well known for drugs and civic unrest. I used to go clubbing in Brixton and I've scored heroin in Wood Green so I know both places well. Tottenham is an endless expanse of crack dens and Jehovah's Witness churches with no real centre. Enfield is the middle of nowhere. My metadone chemist is closing early because he hears the unrest (which is basically organized looting, not true rioting) will spread right across town. I heard another rumour this might happen so maybe it's true.

I wasn't depressed yesterday morn; I was just crying for no apparent reason. Then I wet out to poke through the riot damage and was hyper yet again. Smiling so widely the police kept giving me funny looks. It was a real fun day out.

Then my friend came back and paid me a £10 note and a £15 bag of heroin. He kept complaining my gear was bigger than his and had the cheek to ask for a bit back! Until I said I had hep C and it was all wet in a spoon I had previously flushed blood into ~ that put the grasping fucker right off!

Then I had a lovely 12 hour sleep and woke up feeling ill yet again. For days I have been sweating, freezing cold, bellyacheing, farting like a whizzing balloon and generally feeling crap I only didn't feel it too much because my mood simultaneously soared allowing me less sleep over the previous 4 days than I got all last night!


The ignorant BO-reeking Turk who runs our local heroin money laundering establishment ~ ie a "grocery shop" ~ queried whether I was feeling alright this afternoon. When I said quite alright, yeah, he added are you sure? then said something sarky in his ugly-sounding peasant dialect of his (it doesn't sound like the proper Turkish that comes blaring out of their in-store TV sets, it has very oily over-rounded vowels. You know how most languages sound more beautiful and exotic than English? This is the exception. It's a horrible sounding tongue and I, who speak 6 languages badly, am glad not to speak it. I'm sure even an educated Turk wouldn't understand his barbarian sheep-bleating dialect. Anyway, it's true I had crowded in out of the rain wearing winter coat, glastonbury jumper with furry hood and ultra warm tracksuit bottoms (ie my pajamas, though he shouldn't have known that) and had hands together like a praying mantis. Then he said I've seen you outisde with your glasses. So fucking what. I know my eyewear looks fantabulous but a compliment from a donkey******g peasant is meaningless to me. He waers glasses and his ones look really shit. I'm tempted to get them done under the Disability Discrimination act for takig teh piss out of a schizoaffective. That would fucking serve him right. Also if his shop gets smashed up tonight that would serve him right more. I am very angry with him for daring to speak to me like a piece of shit. Everyone treats me like shit. And you know what? I don't even have to answer back merely LOOK THEM IN THE EYE and people recoil in terror. This has happened more than once lately. The weak and sappy are intimidated by my superior spirit.

I still stand by all I said yesterday morning; all was true. Beauty is passing; ugliness remains. Ecstasy might stretch to touch the universe's end, yet agony is lasting. Only pain is true. Happiness is a mere illusion. If you're happy you're more than likely mentally ill. I do not desire to live in this world I want to live with God. Sorry to tell the truth like that: truth hurts.

Isaiah 11:1-9
And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots:

And the spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD;

And shall make him of quick understanding in the fear of the LORD: and he shall not judge after the sight of his eyes, neither reprove after the hearing of his ears:

But with righteousness shall he judge the poor, and reprove with equity for the meek of the earth: and he shall smite the earth: with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips shall he slay the wicked.

And righteousness shall be the girdle of his loins, and faithfulness the girdle of his reins.

The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.

And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together: and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.

And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice' den.

They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea


A STAR IS BORN: EVERGREEN

In which Gledwood reveals a true Treasury of Secrets ha ha ha!

I CAN'T SLEEP. I was so fucked up earlier from not sleeping or eating properly (I'm in an "elevated mood" so sleep quite frankly is a waste of time. I never worry about sleeping at the best of times.
Years of insomnia have taught me if you cannot sleep DO NOT LIE IN BED. EVER. GET UP AND PLAY LOUD MUSIC; WATCH DVDs DO SOMETHING CONSTRUCTIVE. It is ATROCIOUS sleep hygeine to lie in bed awake not sleeping or shagging all the doctors say this anyway if you're properly tired you can sleep sitting up. I never go to bed until I'm nodding off in my chair first. All day I have craved sleep then I walk about and WHOOSH! up goes the mood. I had such an energy surge in the library earlier I had to restrain myself from sprinting back and forth in reference and throwing books up in the air I really went hyper. Pinky won't talk to me any more because I want to die her hair bright blue. Hey you know that really perceptive and insightful amazing post I slapped up on Thursday (wrote it bang like that ~ no editing ~ in a fit of inspiration. I was going to go shopping for food with my second last tenner then I saw Yentl the DVD for £7 in HMV so I got that and ate chips instead. That film has the best score of any musical. Barbra Streisand has the best voice in the world I watched it twice on top volume, first in English then in German. "Where Is It Written?" and "The Way He Makes Me Feel" are probably the 2 best. And I love the performance of Papa Can You Hear Me by that rough kid, Bart's bully whose dad's in prison. I searched and searched for the Youtube to entertain y'all but it is nowhere to be found. Hey I just realized Barbra Streisand and short hair ~ means I must be bent as a £9 note. I used to love pretending to be gay when I was younger. Gets you all the girls does that one. There ain't nothing more alluring than something you think you can't have. I also used to like pretending to be a virgin but everyone could tell somehow I wasn't. No idea how. Actually how CAN you tell if someone's a virgin? I'm a bit old to be a virgin now I'm nearly 40. I can't really be gay BTW.Reason: no belt with huge buckle or tucked in teeshirt also I don't buy cut flowers or rate Kylie Minogue. I did buy some artificial red blooms in my last manic episode but that was just me bieng fl0ral o yeah my cactus is doing really well since I removed his TOTALLY FLASE TOOTHPICK CACTUS-INJURING FAKE FLOWERS. Loads of new growth and I've only watered him once in 3 months. Hey I was thinking of opening a torture parlour as that makes the most money out of every kind of whorehouse does anyone want to dress up in batman masks and spank high court judges members of parliament and top lawyers for £250 a pop? I fucking do, I could really do with a £500 an hour job (you only get £250 as half goes to the house and I will own the house, or rather dank cellar with plasterless walls resounding with the screams of the freshly whipped bourgeoisie. You don't have to touch the bastard clients just lock them in a cupboard. When I found out you could get paid for locking someone in a cupboard I realized I was barking up the wrong tree with my twee career ambitions I'm doing that instead. Melody Lee from New Mexico does Home Invasion rape and torture fantasies on a hardcore sex line so I'm offering her a British visa to be my best pro. She's so pretty, why she didn't get a job as a supermodel, movie star or pop princess I've no idea. I would if I looked like that. O yeah being as I'm all disinhibited and talking about pervy shit let me drop in a teaser: if I get six INTERESTING comments I'll spill FULL DETAILS about my friend masterbating when the window cleaner came round. Ha ha! True story too! And this was a girl with male eyes upon her most intimate orifices. Wobbling atop a ladder. Imagine that! He didn't have to imagine a thing, he saw everything!!! By theway I HAVE GIVEN UP DRINKING 100% why fucking waste time on alcohol when you feel better than drunk, drink only makes you slow and woozy and i'm on a far better buzz than drudgeful old drink could ever invoke I DON'T NEED DRINK. I can't wait to tell Luta duta Puta Muta the motor Scooter (my druggieowrker) I'm off the drink they ALWAYS assume I'm drunk in that place my last breathometer reading was 0.9 which is a QUARTER of the UK drink drive limit ie practically zilch (considering I'd knocked back 6 units that morning) those clinics are so narrow minded. The dr always thinks I'm hypomanic and Buta always seems to think I'm stoned! There is such a thing as a NATURAL HIGH. I'm milking my elevated mood for all it is worth: meaning CEASING ALL DRUG CONSUMPTOIN FOR GOOD AND NEVER DRINKING AGAIN I dont' need any shitty chemicals any more. Only "drugs" I'm ever taking from now on are benzos and I need them to sleep and if anyone thinks the odd benzo is a sin just you try riding the bipolar wave and not popping pills you'l end up with your head in the oven quicker than me I can promise you. I'm asking my dr for 20 diazepam 10s and 7 zopiclone 7.5s per month PRN as I need them. Think of the injustice. Taking diazzies for anxiety is no more drug abuse than popping aspirin for a headache. Yet I'm scoring mine off a scumbag on the street while other people who PRETEND to need the Vals are fucking selling them on the side that is totally corupt. Now tomorrow I'm getting chicken with babycorn with curry sauce and mix vegetable fry rice the Chinese I go to does mangetout in their fry rice it's gorgeous somehow the dryness of the beans sets of the yumminess of the rice. Would you believe it I found an MSG-free Chinese takeaway last time I was hyper I could not believe the travesty Chinese food without monosodium glutamate is like sugar-free chocolate. Or a gay man without a tucked in teeshirt. Utter beyond the pale vulgarity. Like heroin that's not china white. Dealers who sell brown heroin should get death by 1000 cuts in my humble view whereas china white dealers should get a gold medal. Shit I'm still nurturing that inner drug snob addict aren't I. BTW someone once had a go at me for proclaiming the superiority of H4 (heroin hydrochloride salts) over water-insoluble H3 heroin smoking base that's not snobbery that's called RESPECTING YOUR BODY. H4 dissolves cold in water. In Australia where street purity of China White exceeded 70% at times it's not unknown for addicts with 5 year habits not to move beyond the crooks of their arms, the gear is that good. I lost the crooks (that's my "mainlines" to those of you not into heroin) within 3 months because BROWN HEROIN IS SHIT. It's meant for smoking not injecting and no I don't have a downer on heroin smokers it's envy not derision I wish I could have smoked my gear but once I got on the needle that was me lost to 2 vices: heroin and injecting. You honestly do not know how ASHAMED I am even to have had one conversation with my father about my heroin-injecting proclivities. Honestly the looks on my parents' faces when I told them I was acting like a cat on hot bricks in their house for 3 days straight with no end in sight was because I was detoxing off heroin... fucking hell that was an alltime low. I remember pleading with one family member "not to look so desperate" as my poor brother looked on bewilderedly it was absolutely horrible the worst of the pits. After that I took to begging, trebled my habit overnight (£30 a day minimum up from a mere £10) ~ started mainlining a gram a day because I knew I was a junkie and as far as I knew would die one. yes I had a genuine death wish. Genuine. I know I have exasperated people with suicide talk and no action but trust me if I play suicide again nobody's getting any chance to save me. I'm gone. So I keep myself safe. I will go in the nuthouse before I kill myself. I just cannot understand how being in a good mood can be "illness" how fucking shit does life have to be when you have to check yourself every time you fucking laugh because when I do laugh my head off several times a day for no real reason yes it does mean I'm going manic and I'm a manic-depressive junkie how lower can you go than that. Ha! Actually I'm kinda proud of being lowest of the low like that. Right it's 00:20 hrs I've got to piss off and TRY to get some sleep I'm due up in the morning some "lovely BASTARDLY SHITHEAD WHO BORROWED £25 I REALLY COULD NOT AFFORD TO LEND WHO NEARLY HAD ME EAETING OUT OF BINS I WAS THAT FUCKED BECAUSE OF HIM THIS CUNT IS FINALLY PAYING ME BACK AND I'M RELISHING GOING ABSOLUTELY BALISTIC ON THIS FUCKER TOMORROW MORNING HE HAS HIV WELL I HAD PSYCHOTIC MANIA AND I FUCKING HELPED HIM OUT WHEN I SHOULD HAVE BEEN IN A MENTAL UNIT I WAS AT MY LOWEST POINT IN 10 YEARS AND I FUCKING DID HIM A MASSIVE FAVOUR A FEW MONTHS AGO AND HE TREATS ME LIKE THIS IN FACT IF HE DOESN'T GROVEL I'M JUST GONNA LAMP THE FUCKER HE DESERVES IT THAT IS ABSOLUTELY DISPICABLE SWINDLING MONEY FROM THE SICK LIKE THAT
well I won't tell you I'll tell him. That "person" won't know what's hit him I'm giving full vent to my fury and I tell you I am seething with rage if I was more nasty I would stab him over this he fucking deserves it taking the piss like that who the fuck does he think I am. A piece of shit that's what. Well tomorow the ROBOROVSKI ROARS HA HA HA!
night night everyone and don't worry i promise to treat my friend with dignity and respect as i blow my top which i will more i think about it more furious i am i will talk all nicey nicey lure the fucker here then give it with both barrels
see that's what people do: mistake kindness for weakness well not me mate. never again

AMY WINEHOUSE: WAKE UP ALONE

WELL IT'S THE EARLY AM AND....

MANIC MORNING RANT:~~~~~~~
GOOD MORNING GOOD MORNING GOOD MORNING! IT'S 0507 hours I've been up a good 40 mins. Had 2 cups of black coffee ~ speeding off my BRAINBOX ON CAFFEINE fucking hell!!! I really want to drop round Valium Marilyn's but the BORING COW WILL BE ASLEEP, BOMBED OUT OF HER HEAD ON BENZOS. How can people sleep like that? sleep is a SICKNESS avoid avoid avoid did you know it's scientific fact the more you sleep the more tired you get? i'm avoiding sleep like the living death that it is i want to be UP UP UP UP UP UP UP UP UP UP UP UP HIGHER HIGHER HIGHER into natural land it is not the lot of man to live in poverty did you know that so i'm playing the lottery. i just checked my euromillions numbers from 25 march NO FUCKING WIN not my millionaire lottery THE SWINDLING SWINES!

Now I'm off to the chemist in 3 hours' time then off to this punishment group. You have to go as a punishment for being a raving drug addict. Sit in a room full of people who have been sentenced to sit there by courts of law and talk about relapse prevention. I'm bringing my bouncy ball for company.

i feel love
this mix is a bit like a donkey wearily trudging up a hill bearing loads of bone china teacups and saucers. but it's better than a kick in the chops SO LISTEN TO IT



binary finary 2000
this is one of the best party tunes of all time
Buggerlugz I want you to put this on LOUD and dance round your caravan in Wales



sorry too early nearly 7am fucking boring world NOBODY IS UP i have just been bouncing my balls in the street got lots of rude stares of a black man by the bus stop.

My highly cogent, perceptively insightful post about the evils of drugs is one below this and I would please like lots of flattering comments from you all.

Here are some ideas

Gledwood you have outdone yourself yet again what a shit hot post!

Wow man what amazing writing. You're way more talented than Shane Memoires of a Heroinhead and Melody Lee is Damned put together. Well done.

I'm never taking drugs after reading this Gledwood. Thanks for saving my life.

Hi Gledwood I represent HarperCollins publishers and am willing to offer you an advance against royalties of £10,000,000 for North American rights in English to your fantabby bloggie. Once sales have topped 35 million we promise you an extra £5 million bonus.

Oh Gledwood you are so amazing. Will you marry me? I am a supermodel heiress to a seven billion dollar pharmaceuticals fortune and have keys to the diamorphine factory. Love Cassandra. PS don't worry about waiting for Daddy to kick the bucket: I already have £100 million in cash, property and shares and insist you do NOT sign a prenup.

etc etc.

Now I've got to go and bounce my ball on the SHITHEAD DOLE-SWINDLING BASTARD WHO LIVES DOWNSTAIRS FROM ME AND TRIED TO GET ME EVICTED. FUCKER!!

HAVE A NICE DAY EVERYONE!!

Hi

Friday 20:26 this is getting wordprocessed in advance till I get to the library tomorrow.
I HAVE GONE ON TO A LOVELY EVEN KEEL. Not high. Not low. I was scared I was getting too high (while I actually was manic) and nearly went into a panic attack. I was experiencing a flight of ideas, as they say. So seeing a bottle of ketchup would make you think ketchup catch-up catch this catch cold catch hold of gold (metal petal: rows of roses) and so on. But Audrey Hepburn calmed me down.

The night before I had stuck my head into a cloud of exhaled crack smoke, just to get a good whiff of it. I wanted to know whether it was good or bad crap and it was indeed crap crack. Which kind of double reinforced why I didn’t actually smoke any. Surely second-hand crack smoke cannot make you crazy? I woke up at 4am next morning you see, in manic paranoia. Really went into one about how the local council are the Powers of Evil etc etc.

I had been getting little flashes of excitement for days. A couple of days before I was so restless I had to leave the library and conduct music outside. (Dancing to an inner beat.) Then I realized cars were swooshing past and people could see me and I thought o fuck you lot. I wasn’t waving my arms around that much. What I actually was doing was smoking a cigarette and playing a stone piano by the broom trees. This wore off within the hour. I was feeling so horrible and depressed that any break from it was a relief quite frankly.

Yesterday night I slept six hours. And I ate an entire Iceland chicken tikka nibbles with rice (one-container version) that’s about 6-800 cals. Yesterday I did better and devoured a whole Iceland sweet chilli chicken pizza and still felt hungry enough in the evening to eat a whole can of Heinz spaghetti bolognaise and a 500ml pot of Polish blueberry yogurt. I found out that “zywe kultury bakterii” means it’s live. Before that I was managing nothing bar huge pots of that yogurt and chicken thighs. And as y’all know I was horribly depressed and I seemed to post nothing bar endless rants. I got seriously bored by my own blog.

I weighed myself on Valium Marilyn’s bathroom scales and found I weigh 191 lbs or about 80kg I can’t remember Valium Marilyn’s digital scales reading but an analogue scales weighed me in at about 13 and ¾ stone. So I’m not underweight, and I’m not fat. I’m at my perfectly ideal weight.

This afternoon I slept another 2 hours. I’m catching up on lost sleep. My head still feels weird it’s like the world is talking to me when I go outside. Anyone talking to anyone else anywhere sounds like they’re talking to me. Sometimes cars and trees and clanking bulldozers on building sites sound like they’re saying hello to me. Yeah I know it’s mad but there are far worse ways of being crazy.

Deshane tells me I can be out of this oppressive borough and in a proper new place BACK HOME WHERE I BELONG back at my old druggieclinic never I hope ever having to set foot on this Godforsaken borough ever again because I absolutely loathe this place and all it has done to me. Messing my life up completely.

Ah! I might have a chance of posting this now. A broadband link has just become available. Take care y’all and I hope you have a cheery weekend.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

Sanity

I DIDN'T POST EARLIER because nothing was new and I don't feel well. I've scrapped two long posts because there was too much telling going on. I woke up at 4am going nuts and have since calmed down. The 1959 film starring Audrey Hepburn, Nun's Story, helped calm me. I was getting very manic, and yet still depressed. And paranoid to boot. I only went outside to clear my head out. I am getting free broadband from the library. My trainers have worn through at the soles, letting rain in. Now they smell like camping material that has been stored in a damp barn all winter. They need burning.

I don't know where I am going or what is happening. I am not well. Hey but I'm well enough not to do crack. Somebody offered me crack yesterday and I got more of a buzz knowing I could watch it and smell it being smoked right in front of me and not still not want the shit.

My biggest disappointment is that it has taken me so long to truly realize that heroin, far from helping me in any way, has only ever been one gigantic con. I cannot think of one single example of anybody whose life has been improved by the use of street heroin. I think the gear has just made me sicker than I would have been, because it's become a crutch. So I'm weaker, more vulnerable and more impressionable on a psychic level and that's what psychosis is: psychic overdrive.

I can never know what I would or would not be doing now without the "helping hand" of heroin but I don't think my existence would be the mess it has become on gear, I just don't.

So there's some sanity for you. I've put the rest of what I wrote this morning in cold storage because it's just more mad ranting and I'm fed up of being that way. I cannot tell what is and is not relevant in that state so I just say everything and edit nothing. Hence the literary mess that is me in a full-flown "flight of ideas" (as the doctors call it).

I hope y'all are well!


To those of you on far-flung shores, trainers are sneakers ~ and mine look a bit like this...


HUMATE: LOVE SIMULATION (PAUL VAN DYK LOVE MIX)



DJ TIËSTO: SUBURBAN TRAIN



ASTRAL PROJECTION: AURORA BOREALIS

Fireworks

This is a picture inside my manic brain.







I'm feeling a little manic as we speak. I love the spectacular energy. The razzle-dazzle. The excitement.




My life is like a work of art.

I am a work of art.

I love living like this.

Here you see the meaning of life ~ which is but a dream... Truly wondrous, astonishing, a neverending phantasmagoria of amazingness...

I hope life is beautiful to you, too...

BRUSHWOOD DOGS come in a variety of colourings...







In the "old Nagano dialect" where shiba-inus come from, shiba can mean "little" (as well as its mainstream meaning of "brushwood") so 柴犬 shiba-inu can be translated "little brushwood doggie"...

... according to Wikipedia.

****************

I DIDN'T POST yesterday because I had nothing to say. Me and my "symptoms" went down the methadone clinic where I had little to say. Luckily I managed to change the subject off myself by talking about my efforts at Japanese.

On the way home I bumped into a schizophrenic I know who was having a psychotic episode. He seemed to be in a very Elevated Mood and was burbling on about God and the Devil. Then my Worker phoned me up about what Nutter Clinic I was supposed to go to. And this guy was blaring away down the phone about religious matters (but not in the matter of a country vicar sipping tea at Miss Marple's house; more manic street preacher style). I think my Worker thinks I have really peculiar friends now.

Deshane is coming by this afternoon. I'm depressed from trying to put together a to-do list in my head. The list seems un-do-able. Every time I feel like giving up some inner spirit kicks me and says Come On!

My council tax is in a complete mess, unpaid and seemingly unpayable. I wish I'd ticked the box now saying I was Severely Mentally Imaired. The Student Loans Company who I'm also in default to, wanted me to make a similar declaration of severe mental illness a couple of years ago, but I didn't think I WAS mentally ill. At least not in the way they said. Now I supposedly am ill but confused about the whole matter. A lot.

Deshane the home help key worker person is coming and I'm trying to keep positive. That's not very easy when something is slipping through my fingers. I don't know what's slipping. I just know I need to GET A GRIP.

Staying alive is the absolute bottom line; but what then? I feel confused now. I decided to continue my home clear-out. I have 3 typewriters. 2 are electric and just unusuable. The 3rd is manual and might be handy in a powercut, or if I decided to write a novel on a desert island. I have 3 dining chairs all retrieved from the street. 2 have to go. A whole bunch of Nigerian DVDs for the charity shop. I must have had a compulsive hoarding thing going on but I barely noticed it. See what I mean about living in a whirl. Whenever I try and make sense of things I'm told I Think Too Much. But without thinking, All is Nonsense. See I don't know. I just don't know. Did anyone except Mr Furtheron notice yesterday's last Shiba-Inu was a soft toy. The label on the back left leg gave it away...



Anna Grace's book I Hate Myself and Want to Die is available from Amazon. The American version has it in stock at $15.04; Amazon UK charge £9.86 and say they'll order it in.

The Tale of Hachikō... & I had an Onken

忠犬ハチ公 HERE'S THE STORY of a great Trotterdonkey Doggie named Hachi, which means he was 8th in the litter, who met a professor of agricultural engineering in Tokyo sometime before World War II who faithfully followed the professor home every night. Each evening, Hachi used to wait at the main railway station for his master to return home. When one day the professor died suddenly of a heart attack Hachi refused to accept the death and continued to show up, every single afternoon at the appointed time. Thin and bedraggled he was fed sandwiches by the Japanese commuters... All attempts at rehoming him failed. The faithful furry simply ran back to Shibuya Station and continued his vigil.

After he died, a statue was erected in Shibuya Station in Hachikō's honour. In 2008, a Hollywood film was released, starring Richard Gere. This is the story of Hachikō's life. Original Japanese version. You don't need any Japanese to follow this; it's all set to music:~~~~~~~

ハチ公物語 Hachikō Monogatari ~ The Tale of Hachikō



Top illustration: the original Hachikō...

Here's an Akita-inu tied up on the way to the dog show. Same coloration as a brushwood doggie; much bigger. Then you get to see lots of Japanese people down the precinct.



***********************



I HAD AN ONKEN this afternoon. Vanilla yogurt with chocolate flakes.

Not much else to put. Not feeling too good.

8pm Hey I'm having "psychiatric symptoms" ~ "racing thoughts". I keep hearing the most random ideas spoken each side of my head. Down the library this afternoon I heard some woman whispering my full name, which irritated me. Then this other woman continued to have what appeared to be a pretty detailed conversation about me. The cow! I told myself I was "just being paranoid".

8:55pm the "psychiatric symptoms" have died down. I've been having them all day. I feel ill. I nearly went to bed just after 6. I don't know whether to see a dr. I don't see what a dr can do for me. I don't know what to do.

**************************

HERE are some 柴犬 brushwood doggies, some shiba-inus in the snow...