The Incredible Melting Man

It is hot in Glasgow today. So hot it is melting buildings. It was 40 degrees on the train home. This is me now.

It is too hot, and it is waaaay too hot for Scotland. It’s the end of the world I tell you!


Rear Window

After what seems like endless, unbroken months of grim, grey snowy misery, Glasgow is enjoying a sustained period of it not only not being rubbish, but actually quite nice.

I’m now two years out from being nearly dead twice and in, frankly, somewhat of a holding pattern until I work out what to do next or my body tells me what to do as I may have to follow what it says. Most of all I’m working, relatively active (pain permitting) and enjoying doing the comic conventions in Scotland again so for now, nothing is really to report.

And I must be readjusting to being back in Glasgow as I’m calling 23 degrees ‘boiling hot’…

It’s crap being disabled

So today on the way home I was in Queen Street station hobbling towards the lift to the platform to get my train home when instead of having someone hold the lift, they stood there watching the doors close. This meant I missed my next train and I got home 90 minutes after finishing work.

Now, once or twice in a while this hurts but you deal with it. Every other week and it becomes tedious and try to mask yet another small humiliation but instead of wallowing in misery by the time I got to my stop there was a nice girl who held the lift doors which has tempered my annoyance and reaffirmed some faith in humanity.

But it is draining. I’m tired and sore more than normal at the minute and just want people to be nice and not cunts. It shouldn’t be hard to ask?

Coming to my simple senses

It is Easter weekend and some semblance of sanity is starting to seep back in. Things have been a tad chaotic of late, and also, my right side (the one left numb after my stroke) has been playing up partly I think because of the winter that started in Scotland back in what feels like September so Easter is about the odd cheeky bit of chocolate and wading through my stock of comics to get it spot on for the Edinburgh comic con in a fortnight. This means I’m armpit deep in bagging and pricing…

So enjoy your Easter weekend as I stick comics into bags and try not to get chocolate on my Giant Size Man-Thing.

The joys of a sick day film

Ever since Friday my back has been getting worse. On Saturday I had to send some things off at the post office and it was utter agony walking, so to help I’ve taken loads of painkillers which has left me a touch of a wreck and I’ve not slept properly since Thursday. Basically unfit for travel. This is the problem with having a number of chronic conditions in that sometimes your body can’t cope with everything it’s trying to deal with and it just throws its hands in the air while you let it recover and at least become functional.

So since crawling out of bed around midday, I’ve settled on my sick day film for today. That is Terminator 2 because it doesn’t let me think too much and passes the time while letting me ignore the spasms in my spine.

As an aside it also has one of the best teaser trailers ever made.

So, what is your favourite sick day film?

Every day is napping day

In America, today is napping day. Thanks to a mixture of everything, I’m a bit of a napper.

This isn’t because I enjoy a daytime kip. I actually don’t, but it’s because the after effects of my stroke, mixed in with all the various head goblins fighting for control in my head, means that I simply just shut down for short periods of time. I’ve also been warned that I may have narcolepsy which would make a nice full house of conditions.

So on America’s national nap day I fall in line with solidarity with my American cousins, except I’d rather not be. I’d rather my brain worked normally and didn’t close down when I didn’t want it to.

Still Life

I start by making an admission. Until fairly recently I had no idea what anxiety was like then a couple of years back I ducked dying a few times and since I’ve been introduced to the joys of being anxious. I don’t mean anxious as in ‘when’s that bloody pizza I ordered coming‘ but anxious as in ‘every muscle I have is tense and my brain feels like it is about to explode inside my skull, but fuck, I can’t let this show‘.

To an extent I can manage it or at the very least, keep it held back to the point I’m not breaking down like the heroine of a 1960’s romance comic.

This is all being brought up as right now my anxiety is in overdrive and I have no sensible way to get out of this level of anxiety without at some point without failing and/or letting someone down which means that’ll develop into another kick in the guts as things feel like I’m being driven off the edge of a cliff over and over but I never hit the bottom. It is, as one would imagine, a horrible feeling.

So there’s a bit of a Gordian Knot to solve. I need life to be still but it isn’t. You don’t get what you want.

And here’s another thing; should you be sitting there sneering at the idea of folk suffering from anxiety imagine that few minutes you feel like before you’re violently sick, but all the fucking time, and oh, you never end up throwing up which will at least let the feeling past. On top of that someone is kicking the shit out the inside of your head and you never, ever feel like you’ll be able to think clearly.

How this will pan out I have no idea, but I think the one thing that is becoming clear is that I can’t go on with this sort of rollercoaster as frankly, I have very little wriggle room with my health these days, so for now it’s a case of popping some blue pills and hoping things get better.