Sunday, October 10, 2010

Pentamerous Metamorphosis

I think I'm a fucking star. Considering the amount of pain I'm currently in, the fact that I haven't caved in and gone and bought some fags, or even some drugs, is nothing short of excellent; miraculous even. Once upon a time, I'd look for any excuse to contaminate my body with smoke related gubbins.

Someone actually suggested that buying some cannabis might actually help with the back pain. It's a well thought out idea - after all, cannabis is used by MS sufferers and people who do suffer from chronic pain. The problem is I don't actually know anyone who sells it and long gone are the days when I'd sit in the car waiting for some dodgy geeza to go to some other dodgy geeza's house to score me something that was undoubtedly underweight and too expensive. Besides, my long experience with pot has always suggested that it actually accentuates things rather than dull them down. It was a substance I used to expand my mind and allow me to think and concentrate deeply on something. At the moment, I'd like to forget about the pain, not have it polarised in my mind.

Fortunately for me, the cough I thought was going to hit me hard hasn't. I got some good advice regarding things I should take to sooth it or even help drive it away, but I think the stopping smoking was probably the best remedy. But special thanks to Gillion for the Chinese Herbal advice - it's something I'll investigate when (not if) the next chest problem happens.

It's a real shame that my back is the way it is, because today is one of those days you dream about, especially when you are a low level SADS sufferer, like I have been for years. There's barely a cloud in the sky, the thermometer is reading 20 degrees and it's the kind of weather where a pair of shorts and a T-shirt are the best things to be wearing. Yesterday, on the phone to brother Ron, he was telling me that Southport was basking in the same kind of weather Northampton is today, except it was at least 3 degrees warmer. He was sitting on his decking, by the sluice trough, watching the fish feed and the ducks dive and feeling slightly melancholy that days like this are a rarity until at least next March (if we're lucky).


Changing the subject completely; I'm more than aware that I make grammatical mistakes, allow all kinds of stuff to filter through my writing that my former employer would berate me mercilessly for; but just recently I've noticed, especially on Facebook, people writing all kinds of ridiculous stuff, which leads me to the conclusion that these people are either imbeciles of the first order, couldn't find a punctuation mark with a map and a satnav or are just fucking stupid. I can't even suggest that they're dyslexic, because I have dyslexic friends and they, at times, have far better grammar. A perfect example are some of the friends of my niece - who like me is a bit of a snob for proper English. regardless of her high standards, her friends seem to be as thick as pig shit - except that would be an insult to pigs. The latest example of fuckwittedness (yes, I know that's a made up word) was spelling the word 'busy' with an I in it just after the U and before the S. Not only spelling it wrongly, but completely ignoring the red line that appears under it and managing to repeat the incorrect spelling 3 times, straight after one and other!

Now, I'm sure these people don't give a flying fuck that they're making other people think they are some kind of thicko, but what kind of example are they setting for their children, who already seem to be writing in a bizarre form of short hand that eliminates the need for vowels? Having never seen the word 'busy' spelled 'buisy' in my life, it makes me wonder what kind of logic goes through this person's mind to think it needs a extraneous 'I' in the first place. Probably the same kind of logic that allows them to have six children by seven different fathers, no doubt...


I'm going to have to conclude this blog entry because I can't sit in the same place for more than 20 minutes without being given a reminder of how much pain I'm in; so subjects such as Liverpool's potential 9 point deduction; Chris Huhne's slightly remarkable budget deficit statement and my chickenless chicken and mushroom pie will have to wait for another window of opportunity.

But, have I mentioned how much I fucking hate this new keyboard?

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