Feeling Better: not so depressed/still writing "great literature"

FINALLY the fog of "depression"/whatever you wanna call it (feeling unamused + sleeping 12-16 hours per day EVERY day... yes THAT is lifting. O and when I did get up "early" (eg 8am) thinking how well I was doing, not only did I feel absolute stygian gloom, barely able to function at all, but I'd flop down on the sofa, maybe a couple of hours later, after I'd done all I had to do for the day ~ getting methadone, buying shopping in etc, so the rest of the day was comparitively "optional" then BAM!! straight to sleep and catching up on every single hour "lost" plus EVEN MORE! ~ meaning I just couldn't win. I told my GPs (both of them) and they nodded understandingly. They certainly didn't try and imply if only I had more mettle and forced myself to stay awake I'd somehow be all right because I wasn't all right. The less sleep the LOWER my mood went. It was horrible. ANYWAY this is all finished now and I'm currently on 9 hours. My mood today has actually gone UP. I'm really excited because I found some yummy blue soft cheese (Cambazola) to put in my French baguettes, which I eat nearly every day. Or is it because I'm busily writing the most amazing children's book of all time? I don't know!

Ukh. As for my brilliant writerly idea... I REALLY need a good "literary agent" with whom to discuss this stuff. My family are good, but really just as clueless as me when it comes to the wherewithalls of publishing. I haven't the faintest idea how that industry works and I need someone I can bounce ideas off who is NOT my publisher, because I feel I should produce (and hence publish) my stuff in a certain way, in a certain order of appearance. Maybe I'm sounding a bit mysterious here: what I mean is, I have so very many ideas for stories it'd take me at least the next five years to write them all. That's if I took up writing full-time. Currently I'm only writing ~ really ~ part-time I haven't the physical energy to scribble away at this hobby of mine full-time.

(Most of the time when I'm "writing" I'm actually watching True Movies 2 on Freesat!)

I was watching French television last night (as you do when you're supposedly writing an intellectual novel) and this brilliant prison drama came on called Unité 9 ~ far better than the present-day rehash of Prisoner Cell Block H they're calling Wentworth. I also saw a good courtroom-cum-prison drama Anybody's Nightmare, starring Patricia Routledge (Hyacinth Bucket) on True Entertainment. The real-life story of Sheila Bowler, a middle-aged, middle-class music teacher falsely accused and then convicted of the murder of her frail and elderly aunt. That was really good too.

You know as I'm getting older and becoming an accomplished intellectual novelist, I can watch TV drama and think "no that's a cheap shot; they should have focused more on that character, added an establishing scene here, rejiggled a bit there, done it this other way". + when I read other people's books I'm constantly blue-pencilling other writers' prose  (I do it enough to my own). I got Sharon Osbourne's latest memoir Unbreakable from Morrisons for £10 (Binky thinks this is the biggest self-indulgence, spending £10 on A book!) ~ no ghostwriter is credited, but some of the prose, at its best is top-drawer. Paul Burrel's book A Royal Duty doesn't credit a ghostwriter either and that's amazingly well done, considering the lengthy, convoluted story he had to tell and, in the words of her brother, Earl Spencer: a woman I am so proud to be able to call my sister, the unique, the complex, the extraordinary and irreplaceable Diana whose beauty, both internal and external, will never be extinguished from our minds. 

I once tried penning my own memoir ~ a "misery memoir" as my own tale would be labelled ~ and I can tell you it is NOT easy ~ not just recalling your own life in brutal close-up, but detailing precisely HOW and why one thing led to another, what was said by whom and how it made you feel. The misery of my own memoiring made me so depressed that  I gave up in favour of fiction. Then I gave up writing for grown-ups because I was so fed up of the shitty world I would have to portray (+ too uninspired to write anything approaching a full-length book), and, in the end didn't even want to feel obliged to reproduce swear-words in print, that I finally gravitated to children's fiction, perhaps the one single arena of innocence left in this dark and nasty world ...

Ukh, every time I post I seem to be writing the same thing. Yes I'm writing a story. By £1 shop pen, on WH Smiths lined refill paper. But I can't tell you what it's about! It's not finished.

OK I've got to go now. Hope you're all OK. Take care y'all...

Illustrated: (upper) WH Smith's "wide-ruled refill pad" ~ what I use for the composition of great literature..! (middle) Cambazola ~ soft and spreadable blue cheese (lower) Dave Pelzer's A Child Called It, to date, the most successful "misery memoir" of all time...

VIDEO: AGATHA CHRISTIE

Most successful author of all time with agglommerated sales of (allegedly) 2,000,000,000(!!!)
Her detectives Poirot and Miss Marple are still on British TV every single week. Mistress of the "whodunnit"! Her books seem incredibly "creaky" by today's standards but she's very popular on television. Her detectives Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple can be seen on British screens every week, and new productions based on her 66 mystery novels  are still being made.
Her play The Mousetrap is the longest-running stage production in recorded history. Opening in 1952, it's STILL GOING after SIXTY-ONE YEARS!!!

AUDIO: ENID BLYTON INTERVIEW
She was the most successful children's author of all time and one of my favourites. When I want "inspiration" I read her Famous Five books, which are delightfully PI (politically incorrect!)
Her prose might be rather plain, but it's really readable.
Americans seem not to have heard of her, but she's a pillar of British culture. Very famous indeed within these shores!

. 

VIDEO: BARBARA CARTLAND (WITH JAR JAR GABOR (WHATEVER HER NAME WAS))

Barbara Cartland is supposedly the second-bestselling British writer of ALL TIME

(Have YOU ever read one of her books? I haven't!)
In her final years she was knocking out one slim historical romance per fortnight ~ publishing 24 titles per year, each of which would sell a million copies around the world. Frequently appeared on British TV extolling the virtues of vitamins and reprimanding the modern proclivity to sex before marriage!

Televisual Tower of Babel

FINALLY I got my Turkish TV turned off and HOTBIRD is coming through loud and clear. After retuning my satbox I found I had 1300 new channels. Minus the encrypted ones there are still about 700. I spent ages pruning these down to about 220. 150 of these are in Italian. But I get a load in German, English and French too. There are some really bizarre things on that satellite. Like a Buddhist channel in with Thai priests reading endless tracts in Pali. Thai gameshows (on another channel). Italian señoritas jiggling their bare mammaries at midday. There was a really manic woman on yesterday at about 1pm vigorously fanning her private parts while taking calls on two separate phones. I try and escape but she's on five consecutive channels! I'm sure that woman was mentally ill or on drugs (or both).

Oh talking about drugged-out mentally ill sex workers, I met my old housemate LAUNDRETTA at the bus stop. Smashed out of her brains on vodka. She has a massive scar across her forehead where she crashed her car during a drunken psychotic episode. She said she's now been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (quelle surprise) and some kind of psychosis. She's on 750mg quetiapine (Seroquel). I'm only on 300. I told her about my manic episode when the dryers were all talking to me down the laundrette and she laughed and laughed at that. I don't know what she's doing now but she's not doing well. Poor lass.

I'm doing really well at my Spanish. I'm nearly a third of the way through the Linguaphone course. They don't seem to know Linguaphone in America but it's basically four books and nine CDs and you learn a vocabulary of 2000 words+. To draw a comparison, Pimsleur only teaches you a few hundred words. I've been watching the news in Spanish and with Spanish subtitles can just about follow what they're going on about. I've got so far into this Spanish I started worrying about what I'd do once the course ran out. So I've already invested in Italian. I want to learn both, but am avoiding all those Italian TV channels, which will only confuse me. I've been reading ¡Hola! magazine with the aid of my trusty Collins Gem dictionary. I'm not feeling too depressed these days... (famous last words, I know!)

O cripes I've got to go ~ about to be timed out.

Hope you're all well... Hasta la vista, baby!

OptiConfusion and Great Literature

I GOT SOMETHING IN MY EYE today. Literally there was a black dot on my iris and my eye felt weird and dry (not hurting or streaming with tears) but there was definitely this black speck literally stuck on my eyeball and no amount of finger-on-eyelid manoevring would persuade it  to go. So I spent £4.26 ($6.60) on a bottle of Optrex (I only needed the plastic eyebath as I've got two bottles of Optrex at home from when I last had to go to Moorfields eye hospital in central London for another "mote" that was stuck (inside the lid) for about 18 hours and I couldn't stop crying. That time, the lady turned my eyelid inside-out, poked it with something like a posh cotton bud  and said "this is the offending object" and it was TINY. This one was even smaller ~ but how weird that it should be stuck ON the eyeball. And literally refused to move. I kept thinking I had been speared by some non-painful miniature thorn. I don't know. It was really doing my head in. Of course the Optrex made me cry like a baby and everyone was staring at me when I came out of the public bathroom at the doctors' surgery where Binky had to get her dicky legs looked at. She needs TWO knee replacements and they say she's now old enough to go through with the operation. Because fake kneecaps only last twenty years they'll make sure you're nice and old before they put them in. Then when you reach the stage where those fail too and you completely lose the use of your legs you're hopefully decrepit in so many other ways it hopefully doesn't matter as much.

Anyway I decided to follow Handy Cotton Bud Lady (to those of you on American shores, a that's a "cotton swab") ; went into the toilet cubicle, rolled toilet paper into a twist and stuck this on my eye and hey presto the unmovable "nonexistent" black dot came straight out.

Well I've been in a VERY FUNNY MOOD  recently.  I wake up mulling thoughts of suicide in a fairly distant type of way .... then  I'm hyperactive and can't stop talking IN A VERY LOUD VOICE~!!!

O and by the way, Doctor Lovelace, my GP who I kind of fell in love with ... well she kind of looks like a more beautiful version of Myleene Klass. Just thought you should know that.

Errrr, I don't know WHAT I came here to say but that's about it. Don't worry  or get too excited; I'm not about to commit suicide . I just meant I have been feeling pretty crappy. Some of the time.

And I'm still in a piss about this Turkish television connexion. I'm thinking of turning up the heating to maximum, buying a load of kebabs in and inviting everyone I know round for a Turkish Evening ~ complete with bloody TURKSAT TELEVISION that I get but don't want .The council man wrote back pretty much telling me that if I wanted TV in German and French (for educational purposes) I should just stick a dish up. Oooo that's very naughty . The council won't like that. But I AM thinking up ways of fixing illicit television reception equipment to the back of garden chairs or on poles fixed into giant plant pots ~ then the dish hasn't been "installed" . It just happens to be sitting there. As for the bloody great hole I have to get drilled in the wall to line in four "LNBs"  ukh I don't know. But in readiness for this Bullensheiße I've taken to learning how to line up a satellite dish all on my very own . Which is extremely complicated seeing as said apparatus must be pointing at precisely 19.2 degrees east of south (which somehow works out as an "azimuth" of 155.8 and precisely 28 degrees off the horizon. Well I don't bloody know and what the MotherF is "azimuth" when it's at home..??? Well I'm determined to learn this shyte. Hey did you know you can hide a satellite dish in a binbag and it will still work ? Wow the possibilities are endless. This is for "Astra 1". Hotbird is a totally different satellite (at 13 degrees east) and Hotbird is what we're supposed to get but no it's bloody Turksat. I can't believe I am ranting on this subject yet again. It just winds the living crap out of me whenever I turn my television on. What am I saying? I barely ever "turn the TV on" . I'm one of those people who has it blaring out 24-7 (yes even while I sleep)  .Hence my severe irritation at the Turksat Scandal. Yes I do do other things apart from listen to television (  I don't actually deign to watch it THAT  much...)... in combustation of this I bought a whole load of books this afternoon. Classic texts . They are:

 Virginia Woolf: Mrs Dalloway ~ no idea what this one's about but it's supposed to be good. Virginia Woolf, by the way, is the ONE SINGLE FAMOUS PERSON I can think of  who had full-blown psychotic bipolar 1 disorder with florid auditory and visual hallucinations, like me (rather than the Trendy Celebrity Version  of Bipolar , which is type 2 ~ that means a person might become very severely depressed, but their manic episodes are never severe enough to make them totally lose the plot. Anyway...

DH Lawrence: Sons and Lovers  ~ we did this at school. His best prose is lusciously poetic  but his worst is absolutely terrible...

Fyodor Dostoyevsky: Crime and Punishment ~ this seems to be the only really good novel Dostoyevsky wrote. O and by the way he was heavily in debt throughout most of his life ~ and got paid by the page . Which should be ravingly bloody obvious to anyone who 's had the unpleasant experience of reading this guy 's worst crap .

Ivan Turgenev: Fathers and Sons  ~ absolutely no idea what this one's about , but it's meant to be an alltime classic of Russian literature. (I love Russian books.)

Tilly Bagshawe: Friends and Rivals ~ can I say in mitigation that this was only 50p. I hate chick lit but for some reason the cover grabbed me.  I'm going to give it to Binky. Also her novelist sister Louise WAS probably the best-looking Tory MP in history. Before she went and retired prematurely... akh. The Dr Lovelace of politicians and she too had to go!

John Keats: Complete Poems ~  it's such a shame this guy died young. He could have been one of the greatest poets of all time. Ode on a Grecian Urn is one of the greatest lyrics in English. And yes, Ode to a Nightingale was supposed to have been composed in an opiated daze....

Yeah that's my books. The whole lot cost about £14.50 ($22.46) . Brand new.

Well that's about it. Gotta go and FIND SOME CARPETS for my echoing concrete shell of a home....

Ukh and can I also say YES I DO SEEM TO HAVE MOVED INTO AN EX-CRACKHOUSE.  Everestine piles of red bills ... Bailiffs' cards pushed through the door. Two drunken junkies turned up at 7am yelling for the previous occupant  and when I said he no longer lived here she just yelled "LIAR!"  and a loud crashing noise echoed up the stairway...                                    

By the way if there are unwanted spaces here  , it's just the computer throwing a fit  . I don't know why......

ACEN OPTIKONFUSION: CLOSE YOUR EYES

I used to love this "song" ....

 Close your eyes... forget your name... forget the world ... forget the people... close your eyes and go insane...

Illustrated: Kurdish national costume; Myleene Klass ; Turkish national dress (Turks and Kurds are DIFFERENT don't ever mix them up!! ~ Kurds come from KURDISTAN, part of which lies within current Turkish frontiers...!), Louise Bagshawe aka Louise Mensch...

There!

OK: I'VE NOW OFFICIALLY MOVED HOUSE! 79 Pancake Towers, Walford, London E20 9LP. OK if I were an EastEnders character that would be my address, but they say you shouldn't give out too much personal info on your blog. Which means I'm pretty f*cked, what with my heroin confessions of yore and all... Well I'm TRYING not to use it. And not entirely succeeding. Hey and guess what? My mood, for the last several days has been almost entirely NORMAL. Not high as a kite, and not too depressed either.

I started keeping a mood diary, where I rate the highest and lowest I felt that day as well as various other factors such as manic feelings: racing thoughts, hyperkinesis, etc. It's something I'm supposed to fill in every day, though many days I don't. Takes about half a minute to scrawl out the answers, then every week or so, I plot my highs and lows on a graph. Very interesting. At the beginning of the year I was hypomanic and suicidally depressed on the same day for more than a week. A complete basket case. Then we see clear-cut euphoric hypomania with no depression. Then the hypomania declines and depression appears in a characteristic wedge shape. With me, the mania usually looks like a shark's fin (peaking very soon, then gradually declining, though you may see two or three sharks' fins in a row). The depression gets steadily worse day by day, hits an all-time low; then suddenly, the day after, I'm almost better. Interestingly the letter S for "suicidal" DISAPPEARS when the mood plummets past a certain point. Anyway the rest of these notebooks are full of the most drivellous rantings possible, usually composed while manic and to be honest I'd like to burn them. What I like the most about being hyper and high is that when I'm right up there, my old neurotic self almost entirely disappears. Also in depression beyond a certain extreme, I'm not neurotic either. But my normal boring personality is so insecure and neurotic I irritate the pants off myself, so what effect I have on other people I hesitate to guess at...

By the way, the whole point of the mood chart is to correspond one's state of mind with whatever shit life has thrown at you that week. Weirdly the news that I'd been offered permanent accommodation actually set off depression with suicidal ideation. I kept thinking of this flat and telling myself: Now I know where I'm going to die... (Which might well be true; because I ***should*** have lifetime tenure. And if I don't die in hospital, the odds are I WILL die at home. That's just statistics for ya. (But of course when I'm really desperate I fantasize about dying in other ways and places. Don't think I'd ever have the guts to put that into operation though...)

Binky is STILL CONFINED TO A MENTAL HOSPITAL for the FIFTH TIME IN LESS THAN A YEAR. I don't even know what is "wrong" with her. She seems completely "normal" to me... But! She was severely punished this morning for calling the doctor the C-word and isn't allowed outside. A 49-year old woman grounded for having borderline personality disorder and schizophrenia and being in a bad mood. Which has me running all over the place purchasing cigarettes, paying off her multiplicitous catalogue bills... etc. Being as my new place is two miles from the nuthouse I can't get there every day any more. Hey last Saturday we had an interesting ride in Manic Girl's car. Bloody hell. I had just remarked how "normal" Manic Girl appeared and why on earth were they keeping her in hospital for so long... Then we got in the car and I realized. I don't think I have ever whizzed through the sinuous streets of London at such extreme velocity. When we got to the post office, Manic Girl said "I used to work there but it was so boring I jacked it in and travelled the world for three months". I wish I could be that spontaneous, but I'm very cautious and boring at heart.

Of course I have heard back NOTHING in my great fight to get keys for all my doors and windows and non-Turkish satellite TV.

I'm living on cheese coleslaw sandwiches. It's that posh multigrain malted bread, so I feel most bourgeois nibbling on these whilst viewing Abu Dhabi TV (formerly sky 796 now you must tune to Astra 2 28.2 east 11662 or 11623MHz horizontal) or Horse and Country (Sky 280 not on Freesat) or The Peace Channel Urdu (Eurobird 1 28.5 east, transponder F1 upper, 12559.67 mHz horizontal (not on Freesat or Sky). Yeah I had a go at tuning my German TV box ~ the one that made me hit the roof when I tried to get Hotbird 13 east and was instead deluged with hundreds of irritating channels in BLOODY TURKISH ~ into the Sky/Freesat satellites at Astra 2 28.2 east. You get about 300 channels free-to-air, most of which aren't on Freesat, some of which aren't on Sky either. I do love my satellite television, hence this massive gripe with the council over negligently miswiring my Hotbird feed and giving me F*CKING TURKISH TELEVISION INSTEAD!! Don't get me wrong. I love most things Turkish: cheap under-the-counter tobacco, large lamb shish kebabs with all salad loads of garlic sauce bit of chili sauce for £5.50 and jewellery that is far nicer than anything else you'll find in the low-to-mid price range (though Indian jewellers are also good). But I DO NOT WANT TURKISH TELEVISION!!!

Ukh, all this ranting... am I going manic again? The mere fact that I think about mania, or remember what it's like at random points of the day, is often (weirdly enough) the first sign of its return. That and fantastic adrenaline rushes lasting hours on end, woven into the psychedelic fabric of life's rich tapestry...

" /> Bloody hell I'm hungry. I'm going to have to run to Iceland for something to shove in my sandwiches. Good job it's winter: because I have no fridge, I'm just stashing stuff out on the balcony. Where, by the way, a pair of pigeons keep mating. First thing in the morning and right in front of my face.

Righty-ho. Better leave it there. Hope y'all have a chirpy weekend...

(And if it can't be chirpy, then may it be chirrupy instead...)

Link: my right to satellite television under EU law http://europa.eu/rapid/press-release_IP-01-913_en.htm?locale=en

Illustrated: these apartment blocks are far too pretty to be anywhere in London ~ what you see is Neukölln in Western Berlin...

MUSIC: DOLLY PARTON ~ THERE

I used to listen to this when I was very little: it was on the album New Harvest First Gathering

Partially Moved and lots of repairs

I MOVED some of my stuff into this new flat yesterday. All the annoyingly clunky stuff: bookshelves, 5ft high +-shaped Ikea clothes drying rack, television, microwave.

I stayed the night with no curtains, no furniture. Just threw my clothes on the bare concrete floor and used them as a mattress. Thanks to the wonders of quetiapine, I slept nearly 12 hours straight.

Now I'm exhausted. And, to be honest, annoyed at having to report no fewer than SIX repairs, including one door (which fair enough opens to a 30ft drop) unlocked with no key, one window, opening to the landing unlocked with no key, terrible television reception and the Hotbird Euro-TV socket not working. (Though Turkish TV came through loud and clear, which pissed the living crap out of me. But I won't go on about THAT subject...) And blah blah blah blah blah blah.

I have checked the council's website and it appears I might be able to open the socket and rejiggle the satellite line-in myself...

Two thirds of my stuff is still lying in the old place. But I'm not sleeping there on principle.

When it is finally finished the place will look really nice. Now I have to go to buy coloured binbags to turn into makeshift blinds...

Message from the Centre of This Sweltering Universe!

LONDON seems to have been swelteringly hot the past few days. I don't know if it's because I'm ill with my bad ear, or because I'm on methadone, or both, but my body seems to think it's at crisis point with all this heat. A couple of days last week I got so hot I was wandering the house in just socks and undies ~ yet STILL so hot a river of perspiration was pouring down my back and I felt like I was about to expire!

I'm still hooked on the heroin, but not as badly as before... taking it once or twice per week, but the days in between I'm feeling flat and dull. They say that's par for the course with methadone therapy but I don't know. My mood has been settling down and creeping downwards, causing me to suspect depression was crouching round the corner ready to ambush me... Until today and an antidrugs group with an old acquaintance from the former Nutter Club ~ by far the best antidrugs group run by the methadone clinic. Jane and I are writing a letter to the Consultant Psychiatrist who had a hand in closing the old Nutter Club (a dual-diagnosis meeting) down. We're going to try and push for it to be reopened. It was the ONLY source of support during my psychotic break last year. Without it, I might not have even got diagnosed, as it was Naomi, the moderator of that Group, who pushed for me to see a doctor. She even drove me across the Borough to a mental hospital's Emergency Reception so that medical professionals could FINALLY see me in the Manic Moods I had long been complaining of. And it worked. They wrote a report, which my psychiatrist saw. And then he gave me a diagnosis I didn't actually want: "manic depression and schizophrenia" (ie bipolar schizoaffective disorder). I was so upset about that, I went home and cried...

I've certainly been getting my money's worth out of the Astra 1 satellites and their Central European entertainment... My tellybox is programmed to receive multiple satellites, if you use a motorized dish, or one with multiple pumpumms. So when I press the wrong button, hosts of exotic TV stations suddenly appear from far-out weird and wonderful locations named things like Nile-sat, Türk-sat, Hellas-sat, Hotbird... how evocative. Being in touch with the rest of the world in my own living room is so exciting. One of the best new channels is CCTVF ~ Chinese state TV in French. This particular chaîne de télévision has a more involving mix of entertainment than CCTV in English. There are some very entertaining soap operas. Just about every episode a character seems to wend their way into hospital. China is a Communist (or at least Socialist) country and yet education and healthcare are not free... How on earth can this be? I long to be able to understand the history, politics and outlook of the Chinese Nation. For example: why the Cultural Revolution? And what was it all about? It's my goal to perfect my French and German (hence the new tellydish) and to pick up Chinese and Japanese. I long to be able to read East Asian texts in the original. I want to know what it was like for "intellectuals" living through the Cultural Revolution. And I want first-hand accounts of Hiroshima and Nagasaki... And what did they do to clear up the radioactive wilderness of those great towns so effectively that today they have populations of hundreds of thousands who appear to pass their lives in atom-bombed locations in relative safety...

It took me about five days to do this, but I've finally pruned all through my new German satellite TV channels, reducing the number to 69 by, removing home shopping, adult channels (which usually broadcast a still picture of a reasonably attractive woman sprawling over a series of premium rate phone numbers. In the late evening the girl suddenly has her tits out. But that's as "adult" as it gets. There were also a few music channels that appear to be offering compilation CDs 24-7. So I kept about 3 or 4 genuine music channels, a couple of kiddie ones and 3 or 4 religious channels (Bible TV, Catholic TV etc).  Where channels were repeated over regional variations I picked the most exotic region, eg WDR Cologne, Pro7 Switzerland, RTL Austria, Southern Bavarian from deep in the mysterious Alps (instead of Northern, from the foothills) and so on. I get something like 20 or 30 BBC1s ~ that carry general interest programming of high quality plus regular national and local news bulletins. English satellite channels never carry the evening news.

Every single keyword that appears time and time over I have looked up and written down and I'm trying to memorize the vocabulary lists. At this rate I'll be picking up around 2000 new words a year, so within 18 months my German should be pretty good.

I forgot to say re the German TV licence (yesteday), not only does German television have more than double the income from licensing the BBC has, but the State-owned TV channels also carry advertising, meaning they are swilling in money. There are probably more than twice the number of television jobs going for actors in Germany compared to the UK. Last night I saw an incredibly atmospheric and wonderfully filmed and produced police drama called Borowski and the Silent Visitor about a heroin-addicted "working girl" with a toddling little boy who is obviously the sunshine of her life... until he mysteriously vanishes from her 20th-storey flat. Turns out the postman, who has masterkeys to every apartment in the building, has snatched her kid and the WOMAN, the victim, ends up in a police cell, having a fight with a "thrusting young policewoman"... and then she does eventually get her little boy back. But not before she very nearly takes a flying leap off her balcony...

Now it's a hot day and I've got a carrier bag full of frozen food from Iceland waiting to melt on me, so I must go and P-I-NNNNG..!! I hope you all had a charming weekend... and, sorry Bev, but I never did a post on my bedspreads. Only news as far as they're concerned is the heavy spraying they got with Blue Febreeze last night. I washed clothes dowsed in treble the recommended dose of fabric conditioner yesterday, hung them out, and in they come smelling of nothing more exciting than the acres of Fresh Air that get into your clothing from a good airing on the Washing Line... why is this? How do you manage that Fabric Softener Overdose aroma that you talked about, Bugerlugs? What brand do you use? Is it ultra-concentrated? Do you put it in the watery compartment to the right of the powder drawer? Do you line-dry your clothes? This gets rid of all the smell from mine, even when I've doused them in THREE capfuls of Jeyes' Easy; how do you keep your aromas in? PLEASE leave a comment explaining all...

And PS Anna Grace I am not, and never have been a woman. Someone is having a laugh. I DO have a Roborovski Dwarf Hammy named after me, owned by Bugerlugs. She thought her Gledwood was a boy, until Gledwood gradually got tubbier and tubbier and one day gave birth to tiny, wriggling "baked beans with paws"... robo-pups! If you go to Bugerlugs's page you can see my namesake ++plus++ Entertaining Babies rambling like the clappers on their wheel...!

PS this is my name in Chinese Gēwō 鴿窩 (traditional) 鸽窝 (simplified characters) it mean's "Dove's Nest"...

PPS I've found an excellent poetry blog by a lady named Ruth Johnston. This girl really has something... Not only is she an A-grade poet, but she was born in Finland. English isn't even her first language!


Illustrated: Dual Disorders Recovery Book for addicts with psychiatric issues ~ I'd love to get a copy of this; Chinese soap; Brit comedian Vic Reeves; Borowski und der Stille Gast: der Entführer (the kidnapper-mailman! Who looks like Vic Reeves); a golden hamster ~ my tubby lookie-lykey!!

MUSIC: I didn't used to like derivative ravey pop, but I luuurve this tune...
N TRANCE: SET YOU FREE



✔ ➝☨+✚✔ ➝☨+✚✔ ➝☨+✚✔ ➝☨+✚✔ ➝☨+✚✔ ➝☨+✚✔ ➝☨+✚

Drowning in TV

EUROPEAN TELEVISION has arrived at last! They finally turned up yesterday, one day and three hours late, put a whacking great dish on my house, drilled yet another hole in the wall ~ there is now a spaghetti junction of wires behind the TV set from 2 satellites, telephone and cable (I don't subscribe to cable). I get so many new channels it took eight sides of A4 to list them all. About 200 in German, 22 in French, 12 in English and a scattering of others in mysterious Eastern tongues. Remember the other day I was moaning about foreign stations not subtitling in English? Well I now do get Chinese documentaries and Korean soaps with English subtitles. I didn't know what to expect from German telly before I got it, but it's better than I thought it would be. Basically I get for free the type of programming you'd have to pay for if you wanted it in English. Lots of diving with the fishes, ice-cave exploration and documentaries about Madonna. Years before we actually had the digital switchover I remember a British government spokesman proclaiming how British multichannel TV would be the best in the world. Well he's a liar. He failed to mention back-to-back Judge Judy,

Coronation and Emmerdale repeats (terrible British soap opera) and endless Jeremy Kyle (famously rude and bigoted talk show host whose programme consists almost entirely of lie detector and DNA tests for rowing lower-class families. I even found a German equivalent to my favourite programme which is called Judge Barbara. She's a criminal court judge with dyed red hair and the witnesses say "Scheiße" a lot. (It's not reality TV, it's actors.) In fact Germany seems thankfully largely devoid of reality TV and what they do have involves far more interesting perpetrators (eg the animals of Frankfurt zoo). I do miss Judge Judy though. If she hadn't been a lawyer, she should have been a hand-model. She has the most beautiful hands in television.

I haven't given up on English TV forever though. How could I when the most important event of the 21st century occurred last night at 9pm on Channel 5 yes DALLAS IS BACK. The only soap I ever watch. That Bobby Ewing is a loser. If you had TWO BILLION barrels of premium-grade crude under your house wouldn't you get drilling away? When brent crude is currently going for £114.55 a barrel? (And a barrel holds 42 gallons; 159 litres.) By the way I think Lorimar are really racist: premiering the series in America on 29 June yet making Britain wait till September 5 ~ as if we are some unimportant backwater when really America is in the middle of nowhere ~ both geographically and economically.

I can't wait till I'm emperor of London. The policies of my government shall be simple: rainbow streetlights and the tallest buildings and fastest trains and low taxes for the rich. I would get rid of the "Green Belt" that is strangling this city and have London expanded in size until the population tops 100 million. I would scrap restrictive building regulations and leave just 2. No tower blocks permitted of less than 150 storeys. No buildings, apart from houses, allowed to be less than 25 storeys. Everywhere would be mixed use. No zoning, which kills cities and leaves dead zones. I would get Boring green spaces like Hyde park transformed into stately formal gardens.

On a more serious note, I would love to study town planning. However my opinions on the matter are so strong (I'm in favour of high-density mixed use with residential properties built on top of businesses) I couldn't handle the powerless, thwarted feeling of having my views ignored. Which is why nothing short of the job-title "Emperor" will ever satisfy me.

I have infection in my ear yet AGAIN and I've just seen a nurse-practitioner who prescribed me antibiotic pills (I don't want to spray anything else into my ears. They've had enough of being tampered with). She also gave me a Seroquel (quetiapine) refill ten days before the due date. I had been taking half doses to make my supply last and already I'm feeling constantly excited over nothing (ie the manic feeling is coming through). When you look up my medical notes "SCHIZOAFFECTIVE DISORDERS" comes boldly through (as if I've got more than one of them). Thankfully "raving junkie" does not. I'm extremely careful not to mention my drug habit, or the fact that I'm still knocking back methadone every day beause I don't want prejudice and I don't want them refusing me sleepers when I need them (I really cannot see a connection between addiction to heroin, which is an opiate and taking sleeping pills occasionally, which are not opiates, never make me high, and cannot substitute for them. And yet my old GP, who was snotty and condescending said "I am not prescribing drugs of addiction!" when I asked for humble ZOPICLONE!!)

Why did I steer all through the controversy on Anna Grace in my last post which was only there to say 1 she has put up Youtubes of herself and 2 she sounds like a cartoon character ~ really cute. And yet there I am ranting about personality disorder issues. Totally irrelevant. And I don't even think I was manic when I wrote that. (Mania being a primary cause of tangential expositions.) I hope Anna isn't annoyed with me. It wasn't meant to be a hatchet job, although it kind of looks like one. Also I insisted in calling her pet Porkshire "Eleanor Rigsby" after "Mr Rigsby" in Rising Damp. Knowing all along that Elle's actual name is Elean or RIGBY ~ after the Beatles' song...

Well I have ranted enough for one day. I really must get back to have Iceland Chunky Cod fillets with American Crisscross Fries and my very own Tomato Surpise (the surprise is that they're chopped up, doused in black pepper and vinegar and... well, that's that. Tomatoes in vinegar are much nicer than tomatoes on their own...)

Illustrated: Judge Barbra Salesch; Judge Judy being a rudy, as per usual; the Burj Dubai, also known as the Burj Khalifa, currently tallest skyscraper in the world putting London's tinsy-winsy 72-storey "Shard" to shame; a satellite dish on a German building; Anna Grace cradling her Porkshire...


VIDEO: JUDGE BARBARA





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I HATE METHADONE! // BLAH! ETC...

I'VE RETUNED my satellite box (the 28.2E Freesat box). Suddenly I get 100 extra channels. Some have appeared multiple times, eg I get Renault TV (yes, by the Renault car co) 7 times in a row. Loads of stuff seems to be in Hindi and Arabic

and they're too lazy to put up English subtitles. People babbling in foreign languages really annoy me. That's why I put such an effort into learning foreign tongues. Because people talking over my head really piss me off. Eg when they make scathing comments about me in the local shops (I did used to look like a real A-grade junkie) and they don't think or don't care that their attitude is so blaringly obvious even though their words are encrypted. German/French/Spanish etc TV from 19.2E doesn't come till tomorrow.

Back to the satellite TV and bloody hell! Half the channels look like they are filmed in somebody's garden shed with a cheap Athena poster backdrop. My three favourite ones are Olive TV ~ people ranting away in African French; Sahara One which isn't North African at all, it's actually in Hindi but the programming looks really good. I really want to speak Hindi now. Abu Dhabi TV. And a channel showing mainland Chinese soap operas with Chinese subtitling. And the news from Taiwan. I can tell the difference because mainland china uses simplified characters, Taiwan uses the much prettier traditional ones. Also the Taiwanese seem to enunciate much more clearly than mainland Chinese. There was a hilarious soap opera on earlier. Some woman had a tantrum. Threw her clothes on the floor and stamped on them. Very un"Chinese" behaviour. Then they ended up in a Beijing medical clinic. I know this because I was able to read the sign behind them.

I saw a beautiful Korean film called Poetry the other night. About a woman coming to terms with an Alzheimer's diagnosis while coping with her wayward grandson. Korean is a bizarre language. It's said to be the most difficult of all major languages to reach perfection in. (What is perfection anyway?) It sounds like a cross between Chinese and Japanese. And the handwriting looks majorly weird.

My ear is growing deafer by the day. How can you get infection just from wax? I do. My ears get really itchy, right on the inside, which is why I was poking around in them to start with...

Tomorrow my methadone goes back to "normal consumption". That is, I take the bottle home and swig it when I like. The clinics will not hear this (basically because they don't give a crap about anyone's wellbeing) but finding a time when it's convenient to pick up the methadone and a time you want to drink it that coincide can be difficult. Especially if you want to knock it back at 4am. I asked the last place why, if they insisted on observing me drinking it, wouldn't the chemist deliver it to my door at this hour and my old worker just laughed. I wasn't joking. It's bad enough they treat heroin addiction with methadone in oral form, not injectable heroin, like they should do. But to expect someone to go on an hour and a half diversion every day (that's what it took to get there, wait AGES for the chemist to bother to serve me) then go back... that was beyond the pale. I felt so ill I usually had to spend 2 hours in the public library waiting for the dose to reach full potency. All the while knowing that the drug dealer on the corner would give me something that worked straight away and twice as effectively. Even when the old clinic eventually let me take my dose home they STILL insisted that when I collect two doses I must drink the dose for that day under supervision. I found this patronizing beyond words. When my old worker told me this was the arrangement I flipped my lid. But there was nothing he could do. Like the Irish gypsy, who I used to repeatedly bump into on the way in and out, once said they were "really backward". I'm much happier on 15mg than I ever was on 120, 130 or more. Because I know I'm only 15 steps from freedom. I cannot understand how any addict can "like" being on methadone. You have

ALL the disadvantages of being on heroin, except the financial one. If you have an car accident, 5mg morphine will not touch the sides. (By the way they CAN provide effective pain relief to a heroin addict if they want to: the main options are titrated diamorphine hydromorphone or morphine (whatever), ketamine, an epidural or spinal block or induced coma (propofol) ~ if they don't play ball, sue for clinical negligence.) I'm itching for a chance to avenge myself on the system, so if I were mistreated, I would. If you ever want to travel you have to ask permission (and that really gets my goat). You're still an addict, still a junkie, still beholden to a chemical and the people who supply it. And they are LESS amenable to persuasion than drug dealers. Too scared of breaking the rules. I was far happier on heroin than I've ever been on methadone. The one single lonely thrill of the present situation is being able to see THE END in sight.

I don't know how I got on to this rant. But hey that's what I'm thinking. Anna Grace is lucky in that American methadone clinics seem to open at midnight. My ideal methadone-drinking time used to be in the early hours, so that come daybreak, the dose was going full-on. If it wasn't, the chances were I would score rather than go through the rigmarole of picking up the dose. (The last clinic offered a list of about eight or ten clinics for an entire massive outer-London borough: the present one deal with twenty or so. That are far easier to get to as they're in proper urban London).

Well anyway I'm going. Want my advice? DON'T TAKE METHADONE. If you are a drug addict, get IV diamorphine instead. Jump before an express train. Do anything to avoid methdone. Best way of avoiding methadone is never to experiment with heroin to begin with.



Illustrations: from the film Poetry. She's holding up an apple because she wants to write a poem about it.....

DONK: I seriously disapprove of the cannabis leaf. (Biggest waste of time, waste of money, waste of space drug there is ~ why the hell anybody feels the need to get paranoid and concussed by a herb is beyond me but anyway have a listen.)



THIS is way better...



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PS FOR YOU ANNA GRACE: FOLLOWING THE BETTY BOOP COMMENT ~ HERE'S BETTY BOO (WITHOUT THE P)

Clear Ear German Television Sleepless in London

MY EAR IS CLEAR! I stuck a rolled up bit of toilet paper right into the end of the narrowly winding sinus that is my eardrum thing and as I pulled it out a loud POP! and WOW!!! I don't need the telly on top volume any more. Which is just as well as I'm in the front room and don't have a TV licence. My Mum (I think) is buying me a new one. But I'm frankly feeling a bit old for living off Mummy's charity and might just go out and buy one myself. I heard you can pay weekly at about £3 a week. Which is slightly IRRITATING as I barely watch BBC and am about to get my telly switched to the 19.2E Astra satellites which broadcast mostly in GERMAN. Not a single BBC channel among them. Yet our bastard government insist everybody must pay the BBC a whacking great licence fee of £150 a year no matter whether they watch TV in Polish, Arabic or Zulu ~ this for just seven channels, 4 of which share frequencies (it is no coincidence that when Cbeebies goes down BBC4 starts. The cheapskates won't even pay £70,000 a year for a dedicated frequency. And they don't do +1 hour channels. For the same money you can get 175 channels off Virgin or more than 400 from Sky. Yet we are obliged to pay £150 a year for 7 channels a lot of people don't want to watch. Why the hell does this ridiculous monopoly go on? And why do they continue to make EastEnders? (This is the BBC's flagship working-class soap.) Nobody I know watches it anymore. I used to watch it. Everyone I knew used to follow it. Drug dealers used to say "I'm not coming out while EastEnders is on".... NOBODY watches it now. Ah! I just googled it. 8.55 million people supposedly saw it last week. Down from a peak of about 30 million who tuned into Den and Angie's divorce back in the day. Maybe there are that many mentally retarded people in Britain. I don't know anyone who likes it any more.

I just went into the satellite shop who said they could get me a 90cm dish, and an HD box (I haven't got an HD telly but it supposedly still works) and installation all-in for £150. I have to come in tomorrow to make a definite appointment for Tuesday. I'm going to spend the money on German television 1: because watching television is a waste of time and this way I can at least convince myself I'm somehow educating myself as I go. 2: you supposedly get French channels as well. I supposedly "speak" French and German. (Even though I don't.) and 3: if I don't spend the £150 on new telly channels it'll probably go on some nefarious brown lumpy substance that is only perpetuating a 14 year habit (if you include a year of experimentation plus a further year of on-off addiction). So the £150 is getting spent. I don't know why I was ranting about the heroin purity yesterday. It feels like less than a quarter of what it once was. O yeah I do. Because at the clinic they like to say the heroin is really weak. Well it didn't used to be. It was strong enough to render their pathetic non-substitute methadone ineffective. Most days, by the end, I was spending "only" £15 a day. For that you got 0.4g heroin. And I needed 90-120mg methadone to even half feel good when I wasn't on it. Not 30 or 40mg. 120.

Well enough of this ranting. I'm so glad my ear is half back to normal. I still have louder-than-normal tinnitus that side. (I've had constant ringing in the ears since age 17: I just don't let it bother me.) If it doesn't go I will get Dr Lovelace to peer in for me. Last time I managed to block up my ear with clandestine excavations I got an A-grade infection there as well. Felt like somebody had planted an acorn in my head and a mighty oak was sprouting sideway into my brain.

O cripes I just had to run and pee out the back. Why does pissing take such an odiously long time when you're in a hurry? By the way is it true women can piss faster than men? Something to do with wider pipes, or something. I'm glad I'm not a pregnant alcoholic. Then I'd be peeing all the time.

I tried not taking my medication last night. Being as it's useless crap that appears to do nothing except knock me sideways about 90 minutes after popping the pills. It doesn't stop me hearing voices (which barely ever bother me anyhow: it's like getting free radio broadcasts without the hassle of turning the radio on). Doesn't stop me getting depressed. It might stop me a bit from getting manic, but I wanted to be in a manic mood last night. What am I saying? I WAS hypomanic. I know I am when I can walk down the street feeling like a strong wind is pushing me along from behind, when I feel all excited over nothing, when I'm disinhibited and overtalkative and when I CANNOT SLEEP. I took three Nytol one-a-nights and was STILL wide awake at 5am. I didn't sleep till 6. Then Pinky went and rang me after 6 hours' sleep accusing me of ignoring her. She is in a mental health crisis house for having a mini-breakdown.

Well what else was I going to say?~? I'm saving a FORTUNE since switching my fridge off. Even that slight defrost (3 days after a full defrost) left a miniature Loch Ness on the kitchen floor. Shame it didn't have emerald green banks and an aquatic diplodocus skulling around, that would have looked really cute. Almost as cute as a surprised roborovski hamster. Anyone who says hamsters don't have facial expressions doesn't know hamsters. They are really good at looking shocked and surprised. Golden hamsters perk their ears up and sit up on their haunches, hands together in a very fey manner.

O yeah that reminds me what am I going to eat today. I've munched down a quarter kilo of sultana grapes. Those are the tiny ultra-sweet seedless ones that go yellow when they're ripe.

Anyway I've gotta go. Hope you didn't have too much of a shit weekend. Bye!!!!!!!!!!


Illustrated: lovely fresh sunripened sultana grapes (and by the way, what other bloody method of ripening IS there??!) Sunripened my arse.

Flat as a Giant Pancake...

I FEEL flat as a French pancake (they are very flat). And kind of depressed. What am I saying? I probably am depressed. I wake up every morning hating the day. Then Judge Judy comes on various channels. Then various shows about housewives that I don't actually watch; they just come on anyway. There's nothing at all on TV tonight so I'm definitely going for German TV. At least that way, I can waste hours on end and tell myself it's all an education as I'm picking up the language.

There's little else to say. I wrote this about 8pm last night. Only thing I'm looking forward to is popping my 2 pills that wipe me out. Nothing to stay awake for.

Ha! Except, I found this OK but totally BO-ridden crackhead's jacket in the trash. I know it belongs to a crackhead as an old Martel pipe came tinkling out of the same bin. Anyways, I've washed it once yet it STILL reeks. So I've tried to copy Bugerlugs' technique by soaking bath towels in half a bucket of water and three capfuls of blue fabric conditioner. Later I'm going to add more conditioner and more water and soak this jacket on top to see if I can get it fresh again. Then I'm going to wash the whole lot with at least three times the recommended dose of softner. And see what happens. I've turned the spin off on the washing machine to try and save electricity...

Fridge Defrosting...

I WOKE UP in a real bad mood, seeing as I have "given up heroin for ever" (yes this is only setting me up for yet another fall, so stay tuned for much amusement when it happens)... anyway I have no intention of ever touching that noxious crap again.

All that bullshit they come out with at methadone clinics, that if you are going to use brown you should smoke it. I cannot feel anything at all from any method of ingestion except intravenous injection, and then I just feel a flush of life flowing into my veins (that's what it feels like anyhow, you may think of it as death, but I always felt it as kind and gentle and fluffy. And when I did take it again after several hours' enforced abstinence (as I'd been out on the streets begging up more B-money) and came back cold and drenched and knackered, it really did feel like life itself rushing back into my veins.

Anyway that's all in the past. So I was in a bad mood over that. And the fact that my drugs worker had gone and made me a 10am appointment. When such early appointments are made I'm always extremely glad to have them early and out of the way with. Then the day comes and I don't want to get out of bed. 300mg of quetiapine really doesn't help with this.

My worker was being all sarky telling me to wake up etc, when I felt completely brain dead and empty and just not with it. All this could easily, by the way, be a part of my "illness" as much as it ever was drug-induced, I've never actually needed drugs to feel gone-out and wuzzy (CFS makes you feel like that in a big way). You just have to look at a room full of schizophrenics (and just about everybody on a mental ward who isn't manic or depressed is schizophrenic) to see how gone-out the condition can make a person. As for feeling hyped up and excited, I don't need drugs for that either. When it happens naturally it's just called a "manic episode", or if milder, a hypomanic one. So I don't need drugs for any of this. All through the years I've been accused loads of times of being on drugs when I was totally off them. (I'm talking right back through the years before I was on heroin.) Partly this is because my friends seemed to make the annoying assumption that my depressed self was somehow the real me. So when I'm suddenly dazzlingly sparky, witty and more with it than they'll ever be I absolutely have to be on drugs. Actually THAT is the real me. I'd love to be able to say the realest me only manifests in full-on mania when it reaches mindblowing intensity. But if that's so I'm a very self-centred person who doesn't give a flying crap for anyone else's thoughts or feelings or anything they have to say. In fact when I really was manic my capacity for empathy nearly disappeared. When you feel multiple trillions of volts of energy flowing straight through your brain you do tend to get like that.

Well anyway so life is really boring now. No heroin for ever. It's not like I didn't make the decision before ~ and stick to it for weeks ~ but back then I had a consistently "elevated mood" (my psychiatrist's diagnosis) (in other words I was really manic for ages and ages, I felt so up I couldn't imagine being depressed ever again ~ ha! How wrong I was..! What I'm doing now, if you want to know the difference, is I'm making a commitment to stop heroin for good. If I don't do this, I'll never manage the full community methadone detox.

The only excitement of today is me defrosting my fridge with a gallon to a gallon-and-a-half of ice in it. It's the really oldfashioned type of fridge my nana used to have with a tiny ice-making compartment just about big enough for a tub of ice cream. Most of the meltwater went on the floor until I realized that if I took out the salad compartment it could drip directly down into that. So the floors shouldn't have collapsed with sogginess when I get back.

The guy diagonal from me in this internet caff is watching some really dirty porn set in an expensive-looking Mediterranean villa. I think if the owner came back suddenly he'd be disgusted to know where his antique silver candlesticks have just been! How come the swimming pools in these places are always a mandy shade of blue? When I get my own I'm having electric blue with laser lighting. Or bright yellow. Or maybe purple and yellow in the deep end, electric blue in the shallow end.

O well there's nowt more to write. O yeah except my electric meter seems to have something wrong with it. It went to emergency what feels like two days ago and already I'm on £3.95 debit! (The emergency limit is £6.) Meaning it's probably going to hit that limit about twelve hours before it's convenient to do so. I know I could stop watching Judge Judy but how barren would life be without Real Housewives of New York and Orange County and her? Only Real Housewives show I liked was New Jersey with that very damaged woman ~ the one at odds with those cliquey Italian sisters. I could never work out whether I liked her or loathed her or just felt sorry for her...

The satellite shop said they could put in German TV, dish, box, everything for £150. That's not bad. And you get at least 90 free channels. You can also get French and German TV from the same dish, if you get a multi-satellite feed (not a motorized dish: the dish stays in the same place but it has multiple dinkadonks on it receiving different satellite positions) so maybe I'll ask for that. If it's just £10 extra. Which I don't think it will be...

Well I gotta go now. Listen to this top tune. Lots of DONK-DONK-DONK...



IF YOU WANT 3 HOURS OF NONSTOP DONK, CLICKONTHIS:~~~
The first 4 mins is crap, so bear with it...
BEVERLYBABE, this is for you. Keep it on and keep it going LOUD... The best traxx are at 17 mins 20 and 47 mins...




Illustrated: this is what my fridge looks like; German TV Guide; electric key-meter, like mine......

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