Yes, indeedy...where would we be without the good old pharmaceutical companies looking out for our mental health. Administering to our every schizophrenic whim, conceptualising our various phycoses...
I've changed my meds recently as the previous post explains. The following is a bit of whimsy that is firmly embedded between the succulent thighs of reality.
Here's how I see it..
****
It's the bee's knees
I’m on a new medication
apparently the old one
wasn’t up to the job
out of the ark, really
I mean Prozac’s
been around forever.
my pragmatic doc
assures me that these
new ones are the bee’s knees
even if I indulge
in a few daily beverages
now that’s really good news
and they seem to be working fine
my only problem now
is staying awake long enough
to go to sleep
Cooldragon
24th December 2006 ©
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Back to the wall.......
Yes, it's back to the wall today. Changed meds a few weeks ago, and yesterday had them reduced slightly. Great, you might say. Less drugs has to be better, right? Well, tonight I'm wound up like a clock spring, tight and tense. Everything aggravates me.
Is it the meds, or am I just losing my grip? Or am I just pandering to my weaknesses?
Who knows... not even the Wonder Woman doc here does.... I'm of a mind to get shot of the bloody things altogether and go back to the good old days when I was occasionally suicidal, but WRITING! I don't wish to be as calm as a cabbage or as level as a lemon. I have no libido, no attention span, I'm always tired and have no desire for anything at all except quietness and space. A lot of space...
I'd rather have a shorter and more fulfilling existence than a lovely long life with lashings of lalalalalala.
I'll think on that. Meantime, I'll have another double rum.... just in case.
Is it the meds, or am I just losing my grip? Or am I just pandering to my weaknesses?
Who knows... not even the Wonder Woman doc here does.... I'm of a mind to get shot of the bloody things altogether and go back to the good old days when I was occasionally suicidal, but WRITING! I don't wish to be as calm as a cabbage or as level as a lemon. I have no libido, no attention span, I'm always tired and have no desire for anything at all except quietness and space. A lot of space...
I'd rather have a shorter and more fulfilling existence than a lovely long life with lashings of lalalalalala.
I'll think on that. Meantime, I'll have another double rum.... just in case.
Monday, December 11, 2006
I want to be fat, don't I?
Yea, well.... week two (or is it three) along the new anorexia trail
and I'm all hanging out behind like a dog's arse. At first I strode out,
determined not to let Shortarse get to the predetermined lamp post
at the far end of the bay first. That lasted two days before my back gave out.
Yea right...
But true. Honest injun. I do have a lower back "issue" probably resulting
from years of motorcycle racing and having consenting sex in the back
of a 1937 Morris Eight. Whatever.... The fact is that a one km flat out walk
leaves me in considerable pain. What a bugger, eh?
So now I stroll along the beach looking for driftwood and NZ kauri gum (amber)
while Herself JOGS along the road. We meet up at the half way back point, and
I hand over any treasures I've been lucky enough to find. Part of the deal.
I've slipped back into old habits as quickly as a fox on the trot. I still go along,
but "the back" is my out for anything strenuous. I'm a weakling, I know, but
it can't hurt to let Herself have the limelight, can it? She deserves it really...
Of course, now I have to drink all the grog because that's on the prohibited
list for her now.
Maybe fat is OK after all...
and I'm all hanging out behind like a dog's arse. At first I strode out,
determined not to let Shortarse get to the predetermined lamp post
at the far end of the bay first. That lasted two days before my back gave out.
Yea right...
But true. Honest injun. I do have a lower back "issue" probably resulting
from years of motorcycle racing and having consenting sex in the back
of a 1937 Morris Eight. Whatever.... The fact is that a one km flat out walk
leaves me in considerable pain. What a bugger, eh?
So now I stroll along the beach looking for driftwood and NZ kauri gum (amber)
while Herself JOGS along the road. We meet up at the half way back point, and
I hand over any treasures I've been lucky enough to find. Part of the deal.
I've slipped back into old habits as quickly as a fox on the trot. I still go along,
but "the back" is my out for anything strenuous. I'm a weakling, I know, but
it can't hurt to let Herself have the limelight, can it? She deserves it really...
Of course, now I have to drink all the grog because that's on the prohibited
list for her now.
Maybe fat is OK after all...
Friday, November 24, 2006
Flying close to the sun...
Flying close to the sun...
So it's been a while. Sue me..
We're three days into the new regime health here: we are to become fatless and fit apparently. Less drinking, less red meat, more fruit and more (shudder) exercise. I am not allowed to have a heaping of last night's left-over stew on my 1" thick toast for breakfast.. oh no. Now it's a grapefruit or yogurt or a banana. Yum. I can't wait to wake up in the mornings.
We drink NZ goat's milk, eat NZ sheep's milk feta, and I use no cream in the sauces. It's not all bad. I actually like the taste of goat's milk in my coffee, and the feta is delicious. It's all just bloody expensive. Bad luck to have begun all this right now when I need a new computer.
Then there's the exercise, of course. Oh, I know it's good for me... heart rate improves, bowels work (not that they were a problem before) and better wind. We drive to the beach each morning and power walk to the far end along the foreshore and road--about a kilometre. Then stroll back along the beach among the fish skeltons, dead shellfish, dried seaweed and beer bottles.
Herself has become rampant... her little short legs sweep her along in front increasing the distance between us with every aggressive stride. She can't swing her arms because of damage to her shoulders, but she barrels along scattering mynah and heron and blackbird, dust swirling in her wake. Which is where I am.
She is a shining example of dedication to a healthier life-style, and I can only hope that she finds another windmill to tilt at before she looks like a stunted version of Naomi Campbell. Mind you.........
So it's been a while. Sue me..
We're three days into the new regime health here: we are to become fatless and fit apparently. Less drinking, less red meat, more fruit and more (shudder) exercise. I am not allowed to have a heaping of last night's left-over stew on my 1" thick toast for breakfast.. oh no. Now it's a grapefruit or yogurt or a banana. Yum. I can't wait to wake up in the mornings.
We drink NZ goat's milk, eat NZ sheep's milk feta, and I use no cream in the sauces. It's not all bad. I actually like the taste of goat's milk in my coffee, and the feta is delicious. It's all just bloody expensive. Bad luck to have begun all this right now when I need a new computer.
Then there's the exercise, of course. Oh, I know it's good for me... heart rate improves, bowels work (not that they were a problem before) and better wind. We drive to the beach each morning and power walk to the far end along the foreshore and road--about a kilometre. Then stroll back along the beach among the fish skeltons, dead shellfish, dried seaweed and beer bottles.
Herself has become rampant... her little short legs sweep her along in front increasing the distance between us with every aggressive stride. She can't swing her arms because of damage to her shoulders, but she barrels along scattering mynah and heron and blackbird, dust swirling in her wake. Which is where I am.
She is a shining example of dedication to a healthier life-style, and I can only hope that she finds another windmill to tilt at before she looks like a stunted version of Naomi Campbell. Mind you.........
Monday, October 02, 2006
My bro Bob..
Flying close to the sun...
I'm melancholy today, thinking about my brother Bob. Not blood, in fact I never met him in the flesh, but he was as true a brother to me as anyone who may have come from my mother's womb.
A bit older, a lot smarter... Mensa-rated, in fact. But gentle and loving and understanding. A Southern Baptist preacher, ex-cop, among many other things... he was there for me in spite of his horrific health problems. We chatted daily on Messenger, even when he could hardly breath.. it was tough for him, and bloody hard for me at this end.
I got to hear his voice not long before he died, even if his deafness pervented him from hearing mine.
God help me, I've never loved another soul like this man... except maybe my old dog. All brothers togetherr, eh?
I'm melancholy today, thinking about my brother Bob. Not blood, in fact I never met him in the flesh, but he was as true a brother to me as anyone who may have come from my mother's womb.
A bit older, a lot smarter... Mensa-rated, in fact. But gentle and loving and understanding. A Southern Baptist preacher, ex-cop, among many other things... he was there for me in spite of his horrific health problems. We chatted daily on Messenger, even when he could hardly breath.. it was tough for him, and bloody hard for me at this end.
I got to hear his voice not long before he died, even if his deafness pervented him from hearing mine.
God help me, I've never loved another soul like this man... except maybe my old dog. All brothers togetherr, eh?
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Bloody broadband..
OK, I'm going to have a wine about the Internet. Well, more about the telephone company who provides the service (there's an oxymoron for a start) to our locale. We live in rural NZ, and Telecom, who've had a monopoly since the far-sighted NZ govt sold the system off some years ago, have an inadequate system in place for the year 2006. We were told, however, by a man who sounded as though he were talking to 5 year olds that when they put the system in it was state of the art... spare no expense. Back in 1992, that was.
After much lobbying by local residents to Telecom moles and our local MP, (yes I know, a politician) Telecom despatched three souls from three far-away places (at great expense)
in NZ to confront a simmering gaggle of local residents, farmers and business people. It was to be an afternoon of pie-charts, graphs and defensive rhetoric. After one and a half relentless hours, no questions out to the panel were satisfactorily answered, and several residents were pretty darned hot under the collar.
All questions were defended with the beloved and utterly inaccurate charts. Our local MP ran a tight ship, and defused several potential murders... all justifiable homicide in my opinion. She took copious notes and is to present a cogent plea to the CEO of Telecom sometime in the near(?) future. Maybe it will bring results given that it will be woman-to-woman, but I doubt it.
Oh, we got the grand vision... no promises mind, but a grand vision of how rural NZ was to become blah blah blah.... you know.
So we have no access to broadband (highspeed), a dial-up speed of 19.2kps, and the frontline telephone Helpline (another oxymoron) tols two residents recently that if we choose to live in a rural community that we have to expect poorer services. Good one, Telecom.
It all comes back to shareholders...
I think I'll blow up Telecom headquarters...
icarus...
After much lobbying by local residents to Telecom moles and our local MP, (yes I know, a politician) Telecom despatched three souls from three far-away places (at great expense)
in NZ to confront a simmering gaggle of local residents, farmers and business people. It was to be an afternoon of pie-charts, graphs and defensive rhetoric. After one and a half relentless hours, no questions out to the panel were satisfactorily answered, and several residents were pretty darned hot under the collar.
All questions were defended with the beloved and utterly inaccurate charts. Our local MP ran a tight ship, and defused several potential murders... all justifiable homicide in my opinion. She took copious notes and is to present a cogent plea to the CEO of Telecom sometime in the near(?) future. Maybe it will bring results given that it will be woman-to-woman, but I doubt it.
Oh, we got the grand vision... no promises mind, but a grand vision of how rural NZ was to become blah blah blah.... you know.
So we have no access to broadband (highspeed), a dial-up speed of 19.2kps, and the frontline telephone Helpline (another oxymoron) tols two residents recently that if we choose to live in a rural community that we have to expect poorer services. Good one, Telecom.
It all comes back to shareholders...
I think I'll blow up Telecom headquarters...
icarus...
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Flying close to the sun...
Househusbandry Horribilus...
Herself, ensuring that I remained chained to the stove at her beck and call, hurled herself face forward onto the bitumen road not far from home on Monday afternoon, late. As if having two damaged shoulders and the lurgy, she now has a seriously-sprained angle, a grazed knee and two grazed palms.
Of course any sensible person would have come straight home, but the attraction of a stroll (hobble) on the beach was too strong. Arriving there, she duly collapsed (surprise, surprise) and sat waiting for me to miss and retrieve her. Hah... I was busy cooking dinner, and anyway it wasn't all that unusual for her to stay away for hours with her book.
The following morning she returned, all crutched up, from another visit to the doc with ankle duly strapped and a bag filled with homeopathic remedies. The good news (!) is that she'll be laid up for 5 weeks or so, and that means I get to do the dishes every night...
She is all set up downstairs with her beloved PC, near the kettle and the dunny...
I'd say the whole episode deserves a poem... what do you say, missus Mo?
Got to go... dishes to wash, food to prepare, floors to sweep, job to go to.
Sigh........................
Herself, ensuring that I remained chained to the stove at her beck and call, hurled herself face forward onto the bitumen road not far from home on Monday afternoon, late. As if having two damaged shoulders and the lurgy, she now has a seriously-sprained angle, a grazed knee and two grazed palms.
Of course any sensible person would have come straight home, but the attraction of a stroll (hobble) on the beach was too strong. Arriving there, she duly collapsed (surprise, surprise) and sat waiting for me to miss and retrieve her. Hah... I was busy cooking dinner, and anyway it wasn't all that unusual for her to stay away for hours with her book.
The following morning she returned, all crutched up, from another visit to the doc with ankle duly strapped and a bag filled with homeopathic remedies. The good news (!) is that she'll be laid up for 5 weeks or so, and that means I get to do the dishes every night...
She is all set up downstairs with her beloved PC, near the kettle and the dunny...
I'd say the whole episode deserves a poem... what do you say, missus Mo?
Got to go... dishes to wash, food to prepare, floors to sweep, job to go to.
Sigh........................
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
California dreamin'....
Not really, but the other day I played an old Peter, Paul and Mary album (yes, an LP) for the first time in yonks, and that song was on it. "California dreamin' " has more in the way of musical asthetics than "Australian Outback dreamin'," alas. And that's where I'd like to be. Dry and without humidity means no nasty respitory viruses and colds or bronchitis. Give me scorpions, deadly snakes, 6" spiders that leap and crocodiles any day, but not those chest infections and buckets of snot.
Herself is still very much under the weather, sick and tired of herself. Poor bugger...
Anyway, no more moaning right now.
Cheers, John
Herself is still very much under the weather, sick and tired of herself. Poor bugger...
Anyway, no more moaning right now.
Cheers, John
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Flying close to the sun...
Flying close to the sun...
Boxed in with bloody bastard bronchitus, and feeling like a nun's twat after a long climb up the bell tower stairs. Don't ask...
I hate being crook, I'm very bad at being crook, I'm not even good with other crook people. So I'm ill-tempered and selfish. Did I ever deny that? Ask any of my wives... at least ask the ones with their heads still on. I hate coughing, I hate the thick, oily, slithery, resinous taste of a deeply-mined gob of phlegm... but I do like to watch it struggle for air in the toilet bowl.
The missus is still buggered, and moans a lot. All the time, really... genuine moaning, I mean, not the usual pommie whinging stuff. Poor bugger.. I feel sorry for her, but ya can't let them know that ya sympathise, right, or they step up the act. I help her when I can. I take out the rubbish once a week. I cook. I help her lift the pots into the sink to be washed up. I get her every second drink... am I a saint, or what?
What a load of twaddle this is. I'm off to get a third glass of this teriible boxed red wine. It's from Griffith in NSW, Australia, probably the worst wine-growing area in the country. Inhabited by Sicilians and Italians who hate us, and inflict their crap plonk on us by making the price irresistable... they know Kiwis have a reputation for long pockets. We're cheapskates, let's be honest. If Griffith can make its vin ordinaire, box it, ship it to NZ and retail it for $10 less per box than the equivilent Kiwi crap you understand what I'm saying.
But I'll drink it. Anything, really...
Iccy
Boxed in with bloody bastard bronchitus, and feeling like a nun's twat after a long climb up the bell tower stairs. Don't ask...
I hate being crook, I'm very bad at being crook, I'm not even good with other crook people. So I'm ill-tempered and selfish. Did I ever deny that? Ask any of my wives... at least ask the ones with their heads still on. I hate coughing, I hate the thick, oily, slithery, resinous taste of a deeply-mined gob of phlegm... but I do like to watch it struggle for air in the toilet bowl.
The missus is still buggered, and moans a lot. All the time, really... genuine moaning, I mean, not the usual pommie whinging stuff. Poor bugger.. I feel sorry for her, but ya can't let them know that ya sympathise, right, or they step up the act. I help her when I can. I take out the rubbish once a week. I cook. I help her lift the pots into the sink to be washed up. I get her every second drink... am I a saint, or what?
What a load of twaddle this is. I'm off to get a third glass of this teriible boxed red wine. It's from Griffith in NSW, Australia, probably the worst wine-growing area in the country. Inhabited by Sicilians and Italians who hate us, and inflict their crap plonk on us by making the price irresistable... they know Kiwis have a reputation for long pockets. We're cheapskates, let's be honest. If Griffith can make its vin ordinaire, box it, ship it to NZ and retail it for $10 less per box than the equivilent Kiwi crap you understand what I'm saying.
But I'll drink it. Anything, really...
Iccy
Monday, August 28, 2006
Flying close to the sun...
Flying close to the sun...
OK, I've been slack... but I'm sick of snot trails on my keyboard and psychedelic cough spots on my monitor screen, however prismatic. Colour is not everything...
I'm better, what ever that means, and of course depends entirely on what one uses as a yardstick to measure the original better-than-what period. So I'm marginally better than when I was worse, ok? That clear?
Th' missus is still a bit crook, although she bowled over a third of a bottle of Scotch last night. And a chicken liver pasta sauce over fettucine, followed by a sardine sandwich for supper. Not bad for someone who's moaning about her health.
I'm writing bugger all... nothing of consequence, anyway. Dittys and a bit of tired doggerel. Haven't written a story in two weeks... am I all wrote out, I wonder? If I am, I'll just find something else to waste my Golden Years on... no problem. You know, I was asked once if I backed up my writing on the PC... at the time I didn't, and pondered on how I might feel if the Computer God struck my hard drive a terminal blow. I have to say that the idea didn't really bother me... so what? If it goes, it goes. (Gallic shrug here.)
That's all the drivel for today... time for another drinkie.
OK, I've been slack... but I'm sick of snot trails on my keyboard and psychedelic cough spots on my monitor screen, however prismatic. Colour is not everything...
I'm better, what ever that means, and of course depends entirely on what one uses as a yardstick to measure the original better-than-what period. So I'm marginally better than when I was worse, ok? That clear?
Th' missus is still a bit crook, although she bowled over a third of a bottle of Scotch last night. And a chicken liver pasta sauce over fettucine, followed by a sardine sandwich for supper. Not bad for someone who's moaning about her health.
I'm writing bugger all... nothing of consequence, anyway. Dittys and a bit of tired doggerel. Haven't written a story in two weeks... am I all wrote out, I wonder? If I am, I'll just find something else to waste my Golden Years on... no problem. You know, I was asked once if I backed up my writing on the PC... at the time I didn't, and pondered on how I might feel if the Computer God struck my hard drive a terminal blow. I have to say that the idea didn't really bother me... so what? If it goes, it goes. (Gallic shrug here.)
That's all the drivel for today... time for another drinkie.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Flying close to the sun...
Flying close to the sun...
I've been sick. I'm still sick. Not, as you may sneeringly suggest, in the head, but with coughing, headaches, snot, and ennui. So it's not termina.... that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.
No sleep, no food and no booze for almost three days is unheard of, but tonight I'm having a tentaive glass of wine. My SO has been caring for me well... inspite of the fact that she's not yet fully recovered from a dose of the lurgy herself.. was an unselfish little pom she is.
Righto.. the Simpsons are on so I'm off.
I've been sick. I'm still sick. Not, as you may sneeringly suggest, in the head, but with coughing, headaches, snot, and ennui. So it's not termina.... that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.
No sleep, no food and no booze for almost three days is unheard of, but tonight I'm having a tentaive glass of wine. My SO has been caring for me well... inspite of the fact that she's not yet fully recovered from a dose of the lurgy herself.. was an unselfish little pom she is.
Righto.. the Simpsons are on so I'm off.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Can't see the sun, so I'm safe...
Dear Delicious Diary...
I'm on my 4th rum and coke, and loving it. I'm a gentle person, and enjoy my addictions with decorum and style... well, mostly. I have had the occasional falling out with my karmic side, but by and large karma and I are kool.
So what's new? Bugger all, really. Just the same old same old, as the illiterate say. Personally, being a writer, I'd say that nothing has changed and that everything is just the same.... see the difference? (Yawn..)
So, then, I'm off shortly to combine, heat up and add to a whole plethora of fridge scraps for dinner. I'll add onion, jalapenos, carrot and a lot of steamed rice... easy peasy. That'll take care of the left-overs from the last three nights. I'm nothing if not thrifty....
iccy
I'm on my 4th rum and coke, and loving it. I'm a gentle person, and enjoy my addictions with decorum and style... well, mostly. I have had the occasional falling out with my karmic side, but by and large karma and I are kool.
So what's new? Bugger all, really. Just the same old same old, as the illiterate say. Personally, being a writer, I'd say that nothing has changed and that everything is just the same.... see the difference? (Yawn..)
So, then, I'm off shortly to combine, heat up and add to a whole plethora of fridge scraps for dinner. I'll add onion, jalapenos, carrot and a lot of steamed rice... easy peasy. That'll take care of the left-overs from the last three nights. I'm nothing if not thrifty....
iccy
Friday, July 14, 2006
Another sunny Friday...
Nothing much to report, really, but what there is I will.
The sun is shining for change, although it is still chilly. I love the winter: snow, ice, rain, I love it all. I wouldn't give you fourpence for the summer. Why am I not living in Canada or Alaska you ask? If you come across an answer let me know, OK?
Woke up yesterday with a mad idea for a piece of flash... so what else if new? After flesh-eating goats, what else could there be? But it's finished in draft form, and my Super-Editor will no doubt rip strips off me for my misuse of commas, apostrophes and tense. As it should be... she's good, too, even if I moan.
Wrote a poem yesterday also (three, actually) for our monthly live poetry group challenge. This month's theme is "The Mirror" which is a great theme. One poem I will turn into a piece of flash later... I seem to be addicted to flash as I am to sonnets.
But then I'm an addictive bugger at the best of times. Oh, well... time for gin and coke. No, of course I'm not addicted!
iccy
The sun is shining for change, although it is still chilly. I love the winter: snow, ice, rain, I love it all. I wouldn't give you fourpence for the summer. Why am I not living in Canada or Alaska you ask? If you come across an answer let me know, OK?
Woke up yesterday with a mad idea for a piece of flash... so what else if new? After flesh-eating goats, what else could there be? But it's finished in draft form, and my Super-Editor will no doubt rip strips off me for my misuse of commas, apostrophes and tense. As it should be... she's good, too, even if I moan.
Wrote a poem yesterday also (three, actually) for our monthly live poetry group challenge. This month's theme is "The Mirror" which is a great theme. One poem I will turn into a piece of flash later... I seem to be addicted to flash as I am to sonnets.
But then I'm an addictive bugger at the best of times. Oh, well... time for gin and coke. No, of course I'm not addicted!
iccy
Thursday, July 13, 2006
To hangover or not to hangover...
...that is the question I've never asked myself. However, it is a curious thing that I never get hangovers. Curious enough in itself, don't you think? But what I cannot figure out is whether it's a good thing or a bad thing.
I mean, if I got the sort of hangover that I see other people enjoying, then maybe I wouldn't drink as much... and I drink a fair bit. On the other hand, I enjoy drinking, so if I got hangovers I might think twice about drinking so much, and thereby deny myself the pleasures of it.
Do you see my dilemma? Sure, if I didn't drink as much I would have more money to spend on other things. Like what? I don't wear underpants or bet on racehorses... and I get pleasure from the money I spend on booze.
Perhaps there's no dilemma at all... or if there is, it is all in my head. But then, isn't everything?
NONONO! I refuse to go there..... today.
I mean, if I got the sort of hangover that I see other people enjoying, then maybe I wouldn't drink as much... and I drink a fair bit. On the other hand, I enjoy drinking, so if I got hangovers I might think twice about drinking so much, and thereby deny myself the pleasures of it.
Do you see my dilemma? Sure, if I didn't drink as much I would have more money to spend on other things. Like what? I don't wear underpants or bet on racehorses... and I get pleasure from the money I spend on booze.
Perhaps there's no dilemma at all... or if there is, it is all in my head. But then, isn't everything?
NONONO! I refuse to go there..... today.
How to begin, la la la..........
Thus far I've avoided the temptations of blogging. This morning, at 4.49am, I have released the Dogs of Addiction.... as if I needed another one.How will I answer myself? Will I be polite to myself? Stay tuned for this unfolding and boring personal bit of faeces.
iccy
iccy
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