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20 Aug 2011

post 302: Getting back on track

There is a scene in well above average film X-men origins: Wolverine ( not the snappiest of titles I admit) where Hugh Jackman (as a straight man even I can objectively see he's a fine specimen, lucky guy), he walks out of his cabin in the Rockies on a beautiful morning and has a stretch before going back in to his beautiful girlfriend, and I thought that is where I would like to be – it might not happen but now that I'm pretty much 6 weeks post Appendicitis and 5 years 7 months post stroke I can dream (here I'm mostly talking about being able to grow Wolverine- style facial hair, I said dream), and I'm back doing my training and I've now got plans to put in a gym in a garage near here with weights and parallel bars for walking, I'm feeling back on track although the new car hasn't worked out. GAH! It took 6 hard months (mostly of my dads hard work to get that and the backdoor mechanism doesn't work(not a euphemism), driving it doesn't feel easier or safer for people despite the automatic gearbox, and sitting upfront in my wheelchair is shockingly bumpy and uncomfortable mainly because the suspension is all wrong and my wheelchair magnifies every bump in the British Roads and my god, how bad are the British roads? No wonder the Europeans take the p*ss) Anyway my dad is very angry (rightly) because he put so many man hours into it but he thinks I should just 'suffer in silence' – if this blog tells you anything about me – I can't do that. I also don't want to be accused of 'playing the sympathy card' because believe it or not this has been said to me a few times (!) I never intentionally do this except in incidences of road rage against my car. I try and get on with things. I just expect common decency in return which I pretty much mostly get. It's weird, people who accuse me of 'playing the sympathy card' are people who know me less well because the people who know me better can see how much this has knocked me although my family seem to just expect me to be who I was. Humans, we're f*cked up. As usual more profane than profound.
Maybe you might think this a touch harsh, but I had the unfortunate incidence of 'having my ears raped' © Tom Allen, by a song they played on the radio by an all girl band called 'the Pierces', now no song with the following lyrics can be good

[Chorus]
God bless the world, it's so glorious
God bless the ones we've loved
God bless the ones we've lost
God bless the world, it's so glorious
I will never die, never die like you

I felt his hand today, across my shoulder,
I'll kneel down to pray
Say afterlife's OK,
But it got so lonely when you turned away

I saw his lie today, across my shoulder,
I'll kneel down to pray
I feel like hell today,
But it got so lonely when you turned away

I felt his hand today, across my shoulder,
I'll kneel down to pray
Say afterlife's OK,
But it got so lonely when you turned away
It got so lonely when you turned away
It got so lonely when you turned away
It's rather ironic don't you think but there's no mistaking evil?! But mostly it just makes me nauseous. I won't post the youtube link because I've had a few people tell me off for embeding it thus implanting in their brains on one of those annoying loops, this is how facebook links to youtube but if you're a glutton for punishment look up 'Pierces Glorious' on youtube. Be afraid, be disgusted
Good-looking popstars gushing about being 'lonely' and about wanting ' god to bless the world because it's glorious, granted I see glorious things but not the whole world is glorious, this is just a painful notion it is as absurd as saying I'm a happy bunny. Apparently this song shouldn't be taken seriously and is 'tongue in cheek' – I don't take things too seriously but surely the word 'sh*te' would do? Other sh*te things have been the looting going on around Britain, some people have been trying to apologise for these peoples behaviour claiming government cuts have created an underclass who have nothing better to do than loot,
Bollocks , I blame it on the coincidence of utter boredom, school holidays and good weather. There were some chinks of absurdity, the Brixton Lidl

was looted and I have visions of staff coming in the next day and saying 'who's tidied up in here?, saying the same at TKMaxx, which looks like it's been looted at the best of times – maybe I'm being harsh, These are standard bearers for Britain becoming an economic powerhouse again after all because we now as a nation manufacture the choking hazard toys that go inside Kinder Surprise Eggs. Doom is staring us in the face. If my pension dries up I'm in trouble, writing some old novel must be the only way
because going through life without a payrise means alarm bells should be sounding, I always wanted to get to the top but a least I can tick the box saying that I'm doing what I can myself within the boundaries of having excellent carers who recognise when I'm having trouble reaching my feet so will happily help me with my shoes and also be perceptive enough to help me out when I'm knackered. This understanding in itself makes life slightly less worse but a well placed hug from a pretty girl takes me backup the table and feel 'back in the game' Not that this has happened – far from it.

My next thing to say that even though it may look a daunting task but I am the flexible, honest, caring guy who will look after you once the fundamentals are ok. Searching will be the most important thing in the world for 2-3 (ish) years despite the fact I've been searching for 3 already and have virtually nothing to show for it other than some numbers on my bank statement that my dad tells me 'seems a lot' for what internet dating is. Longer term will be about training which stops for nothing. I don't want to ever be accused of playing that sympathy card again. I just want to get on with what I've got, I'll Spit, swear and grit my teeth but All I can do is what I can arrange to do with help, because anyone letting anyone down is doing the wrong thing, I have been mortified recently by people deciding not to help. If I've perhaps spoken the wrong way, I'm not too proud to apologise, I don't know what to say and my usual excuses shouldn't mean sh*t but even though I know some great people I can't think of one that could face this with a better demeanor than I do. Sounding fed up here is part and parcel.
Next time: Some disparaging comment on Modern Art and thanks to Jo for a fun day out, the Tate Modern doesn't half have some weird sh*t in it but it does have a smooth floor! Despite the monsoon on Thursday we also managed o catch comedian Simon Evans at the brilliant Soho Theatre.
I will ellaborate more in my next ejection.

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