My mind is in a tangle of crap today as I have just spent about two hours down the mental hospital being pursued by the Mad Pole who keeps blowing kisses at me. I am going to get her some Sheer Cover makeup if I can find it, because someone slashed her with a razor. I watch the 5am infomercials. I know what works best. Pinky is still going nuts and her mood is very switchable or "labile" as they like to say. Some of the nurses in that hellhole are real bitches. Also I noticed that since they like to let barely anyone in these days, the inmates are far madder than they were a few years ago. Everyone there seems to be psychotic, which wasn't the case some years ago. You used to get a mixture of manic, depressed, schizophrenic, paranoid and personality-disordered. Only a tiny minority were in there for "neurotic"-type problems (eg anxiety, anorexia, OCD). Now they're all raving mad. Wandering about looking confused and shoeless. I pointed out to Pinx that nobody in there was manic this week and she said yeah. That's because her friend Marge, the most manic person I have ever met, just got discharged. Which is kind of a shame. I would really like to have seen what she is like when she has her sanity back, because when that one is mad she speaks just about every random thought that pings through her head as if it is truth. Which made the idiots at the Reception Ward believe she was tripping on LSD. Strange how they want to believe that, but they won't believe she has had Jesus's baby. Or Sting's baby. Or that it's dangerous to smoke outside because there are snipers on the roof. I really can't imagine Marge tripping on acid. That would be complete overload.
TV Licence Paranoia strikes too hard. Mumzy said she will get me one. Next week. I hope she remembers. Otherwise I was just going to get one myself. When I get round to it... If you do watch TV without a compulsory £145.50 ($236.04) a year licence, you have to live like you're under seige and never answer the door because inspectors will keep coming and sending threatening letters from their Investigation Department. I did go about three years in the same address without any licence and their letters never bothered me, so I don't know what I'm so paranoid about now. Since I discovered the reason German TV is so good is because it's funded by advertising AND a €215.76 a year licence (£174.46; $283.03 US) I feel less averse to the principle. In countries where there's no licence, subscription TV tends to prevail. So you still end up paying. Germany has about 110 free-to-air channels, about 70 of which are worth watching. Britain is in the worst of both worlds because the best channels are all on Sky, which costs about £240 a year. That's about $400.
And my mood is slowly dipping down. That's why I keep flipping my lid and yelling about the pettiest of things. Like having to go out of the house to do anything at all. It took me about four or five hours to get it together just to collect methadone yesterday, because I just didn't want to move. Then I wanna get home as quick as possible afterwards. Because the outside world is full of crap. Plus there was a Judge Judy marathon on CBS. (Yes you can get CBS here, but I'm sure it's nothing like the CBS in America. One reason I was so pissed off to move to somewhere with only cable TV lines and not even an aerial is because Virgin cable don't even cover CBS Drama or CBS Reality, the 2 channels I used to watch the most... plus for one year they charge MORE than it cost to get Central European telly free for ever!) I have been trying to listen to the radio instead. I am the type of person who has TV and/or radio blaring in the background constantly because I hate the sound of silence. What am I saying. I cannot hear silence. Nearest thing I get is the ringing in my ears. Plus I want to read some intellectual books again. Like Anna Karenina, which is kind of like literary Dallas except no oil and aristocrats and royalty instead of billionaires. But the cheap edition I got has such tiny print it's exhausting trying to follow it. I have a hardback edition but I left it back chez ma famille.
Well I have got to go. These Porkshires will be swilling all over the place if I leave it a moment longer. Yorkshire puddings are little cakes of batter that rise spectacularly in the oven. If you're bored of American-style crisscross fries, they make a good alternative...
I hope your weekend is less confused than mine. My head is humming with crap, all the time I've spent on that mental ward this week. Other people's insanity is seriously bad for your health!
Illustrated: Yorkshire puddings are made of whisked-up batter; the compulsory UK television licence funds the BBC; cute baby squirrel...
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