Crispy when Wet

I DON'T QUITE know what the title means, but it is indeed what they like to call a "crisp" day here in London. In other words it's BLOODY FREEZING COLD with SUB-SIBERIAN TEMPERATURES. At least it feels that way. My electric fan heater has been belting it out 20 to the dozen. I don't care how much I'm wasting by using one of those things. At least I pay for electricity as I go (mostly on emergency) instead of getting stung by great overestimated British Gas bills every quarter!

I'm just going to have to drop the tiresome bipolar language. I'm not "hypomanic" I'm deliriously happy and isn't it great. I mean yes I'm a bit loud and disinhibited at times but no "racing throughts" or confusion or hallucinations. And I'm only as "grandiose" as I'm Meant To Be. O yeah and I'm losing a single hour of sleep, on average, under my usual minimum (ie I'm on 7 hours: usually I sleep 8-10) and yet that, annoyingly enough, scores me one point on some Mania Rating Scale I once googled up ~ when I scored a good 42 out of 50 (ish ~ I can't remember the bloody numbers now) you know when I went cuckoo last year.

I'm so shocked, offended and ashamed at bearing that nuttly label "schizophrenic" ~ even my GP talks about my "schizophrenia" and I cannot be bothered to tell her I actually suffer from what Emil Kraepelin called Manic-Depressive Insanity (well I do according to his book of the same name). Anyway: I'm so traumatized at having gone stark raving bonkers last year I'm starting to feel I need a brief spate of counselling sessions to get over it! How dreadful is that? The memory of the "disease" is worse than the actual thing!

I am reading the Andy Warhol Diaries. What a blast! He and I are cut from the same cloth: I'm obsessed by all that is fabulous and shallow too. Well I am 85% of the time. The other 15 I'm transcendently profound. Well I like to think so.

Ho hum I have to go. Not much else to say except if I don't get out of here soon I'll miss Downton Abbey!

This is how I know I have "manic-depressive insanity" because here's Andy Warhol in the terrifying grip of delirious psychotic mania just like mine ~ except his is far more florid. Watch closely:~~~~~~~~




Ey! I just did the Mania Scale again and I score 11! O! or maybe a 12. I love this kind of crap: reminds me of the type of nonsense you find in the women's magazines in dental surgeries etc...

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Satellite Television, Anna Grace, BeverlyBabe and "Cycling"...

THE SATELLITE shop down the road have just reconnected me for the cost of £40. The dish was already on my wall and the Freesat box plumbed into my television: what was missing was a few yards of coax lined up from A to B with "F-Connectors"

(and that's about all I know of the issue ~ I did invest in F-Connectors, pliers and a wrench some weeks ago, and I tried to line up a satellite signal where the cable guy had bodged it up, unscrewing two lines, adding a double connector where none existed previously (I think it was a double female lead ~ ooo Bev, that's like Lesbian Passion between you and Anna Grace!) ~ well, whatever. It never worked.

I have been in a funny mood since I don't remember when. But an Official Funny Mood since a doctor's appointment at an unearthly pre-9am hour Wednesday.

From days on end without sleep I have switched back to sleeping right round the clock, and thinking how to suicide without upsetting anyone. NB I did not just say I wanted to kill myself. All I said was I had tried to figure out how to do it without upsetting anyone. Two separate and entirely different issues.

I must have been at least slightly hypomanic when I last posted ~ all those Lucky Stars! ~ and didn't Madonna look as luscious as a newly plucked grape in that video. And my New Doctor looks luscious as a newly ripened Nectarine. Considering she's sacrificed her bet years to being a Medical Student she doesn't half look good. She kept alternating between my Christian and Surname. That's because I too look amazing for my age. Especially being a manic-depressive junkie and all.

I no longer feel like posting my every heartbeat to an ever fascinated world. I'm turning into Anna Grace in that respect. She goes days without troubling to post anything at all. Mostly because I used to think she was out mountain-biking, though she and her pdoc, (as Americans call a shrink (what is wrong with the simple term "psychiatrist"~? Why must you Americans complicate everything?))~ actually called it "cycling". In the United States, cycling means "having a bipolar episode". Well I don't know whether I'm cycling or not and/or if I am whizzing on my bike where on earth I am going!

Have a Cheering Weekend Everyone!!