13/05/2007
09:26
Had a weird night, not an episode, merely a taster of possibility.
So have left one community and decided to keep blog private from now on.

I almost seem to believe last night’s message was a dream but dream or not I have acted upon it.
I seem to recall reading that my thoughts and Buddist based writing, advice was not welcome and that I was using interaction to coherse people to my site.

I may keep diary up till August or simply drop it now.

Perhaps it has all been a waste of time in which case it will go down as typing and copyediting practise Hell doesn’t matter to me that much.

(http://tjp.hu/ or http://valid.tjp.hu) Link to guy who worked on magnifying tool.

A rather interesting fact came up while watching a video on toxic junction..
Apparently there are as many creatures living on a person’s body as there are people on the earth!
So like the guy says “ How can you ever be alone?

Found Toxic Junction by accident, went through a few of the opening offers and kept clear of the enticing female contributors and settled upon watching some of the war related videos.

I tell you never mind the rights and wrongs of some of the action being filmed and the inclusion of real life commentary it’s an eye-opener.
Or at least it was to me, it supplied me with material to make up my own mind upon conditions and actions being carried out for whatever reasons seem to fit the circumstance.
Feeling that way this morning,
Very seldom has a site cut short my often-hurried Stumbling but this one did,
will return to check it out when straighter.


The sky, covered with grey mantle reflects my mood.

Some of the material must have made an impact because I’ve entered a contemplative mood with scenes of what I’ve just witnessed still occupying an active area of thought.
I have no morbid thirst for war related footage, no bloodlust exists,
I often as much marvel at the stupidity or apparent inequalities that exist in the different situations.

To drop a 500 lb bomb on a guy who has fired three bullets at you may seem to me to be smacking of “using a sledge hammer to open a nut”

When the soldiers came across a group of men next to a car whose roof was laden with scrap timber from a derelict house they treated them as looters, shot out the windows and tyres of the car before sending a tank over it, not once but twice to make sure.

Turns out the owner of the car was a taxi driver and yes the car was his taxi,
may have only picking up the other men but he is forced to “retire” early.
For some reason that story, vision of events, wholly true or not, made me smile and I found the situation somewhat amusing, at first.

I then considered how I would have felt having stopped to pick up a fare of men and timber and having you pride and joy flattened by a tank, no less!
After being accused of looting.
Scrap fucking timber was all that was visible as payload.
Something we walk past everyday in skips throughout the land.
Zero fucking tolerance or what!

The soldiers who filmed the incident were as straight faced and straight up as to warrant disbelief.
If I’d have been there I would have cracked up laughing I’m sure I would have at least cracked a satisfied smile.

The nighttime coverage of the barrages, right word? Is ace, the enemy is confirmed by identification of ammunition trail and a simple sniper can find himself the target for an air to land missile, enough fire power to wipe out an area of several football pitches around the sniper’s forecast position.

If the audio of the recordings is anything to go by the perceived quality of communications seems dramatically poor.
Even taking the heat of the moment into consideration some of the communications were almost eligible.
May have been the quality of the recordings but somehow I think not.
Surely important orders cannot be issued on such inept equipment?

I receive my weekly Sunday phone call from parent seeking to see if I’m awake and breathing whilst assuring me that “dinner will be usual time”.
I shake myself from my relaxed mood and consider getting ready to venture out.

Bloody cold miserable day, I’d normally stay in but the promise of a home cooked lunch and food parcels to scurry home with is too great.

Last night’s “episode”, continued thought during the night and early morning perusal has led me to abandon everything I’ve attempted to write and put it down to good old fashioned practise.
My typing will never become mainstream, i.e. adopt the standard keystrokes, hands and wrist placement, how could it when one is resting against stomach and three available, read usable are being utilised. Fingers of right hand covering the remaining two thirds of keys.
The speed has now reached a plateau and probably because of restriction due to finger restriction I doubt if the speed will increase regardless of amount of practise.
In short I have reached a speed I’, happy with and thus will be content and not try too hard to improve upon it.

Who knows perhaps being a pianist allows me to use this random wandering method of typing.

I had thoughts earlier today about trying to find a direction for any future writing,
a direction which would take me away from the dreary every day existence reporting and allow me to express opinions, debate.
But what would the interest be?
For me.
Why should someone want to produce something of use to others, surely the motive should be selfish in origin.
What satisfies me is writing for the sake of writing and not to attempt to persuade, assist, advice or provide any such similar services or even give the impression of trying to follow any such tactics.
One day I’ll compose a suitable disclaimer to put on any possible future attempts at keeping an on line log.

The sun tries in vain to pierce the cover, slithers of light hardly noticeable create different effects on the opaqueness of the voiles, inspired by such tenacity I decide a shave is in order.

2:39 PM have returned home after having had more than ample filling of Sunday dinner; I opted to give the club a miss.
Trying one of the Chilean wines on offer at the Co-op.
The last bottle I bought was awful and had to be drowned with lemonade to render quaffable.
I have skinned up and am having second thoughts about sense in wearing clean white jumper, will see if it last the course unmarked.

Louis Felipe Edwards 2006.

I struggle removing foil, ornamental cap and am faced with cork.
A leaving of the chair and exploration into back kitchen is called, for I had come prepared with glass and ice cubes expecting cap top.
I take the time to consider the effort required to get to the contents of this bottle of unknown quality and hope it will be worthwhile.
I decided sooner rather than later would be better if the full effect of having ice cubes was to be gained.
I’m off to search for corkscrew, the whereabouts of which I’m suddenly uncertain.

I’m quite pleased with result, not a markedly obvious candidate for all time best but palatable none the less.

Thin is the word I’d use to describe it, that may be translated to be light, who am I to know.
Acts like an ideal guest, says its hellos, lingers for an acceptable while then almost disappears, leaving one to replace the sensation.

I obviously oblige, having learnt that to cater for ones senses is rewarding to say the least.

I stub out joing and make a mental note to place extra in next one.
Meanwhile wine is cooling the burning tip of my tongue, victim of the last hot roach,
I really should leave more than cardboard..
A refreshing mouthful of luke warm milky coffee takes away the last remnants of taste and I look at glass and decided to have a long cool drink.
By now the full effect of the wine has blossomed within the confines of the glass.
The aroma and taste has been heightened to an even more enjoyable level.
Am feeling quietly pleased with the random choice.

Why my sudden interest in wine? Well once upon a time, a seemingly long while ago, I stumbled upon an attractive bottle of Chilean wine, dark green, almost etched, i.e. grit blasted bottle covered with gold netting, I think.
It was on offer and at a price I didn’t mind gambling with.
It was gorgeous but when I returned to the shop….all gone.
I kept the bottle in the wine rack for a while, kept my eyes open for its re-appearance upon the shelves but sadly it never made a comeback appearance and now I have is the memory of the bottle.
Thus my eagerness to try other bottles of Chilean produce.

I must admit I still prefer the smoothness of home made wines, the richness of content and power of a blackcurrant based red.
The power of grape and gooseberry; the sheer power of banana.
The delicacy of plum wine, subtleness of apricot mix.
Even some of the wine kits produced excellent rewards.

So having lit up, here I sit halfway through the Sabbath,(loved that song Come to the Sabbatt.
Not one of my most arduous days in terms of energy expended; about par for a stoner.
Lounge sounds are sounding sweet today, laid back and transient.

I am nearly convinced I went through a minor episode in the last 24 hours, perhaps due to my relaxed nature at the time I was allowed a degree of warning in the shape of alarm bells, be they soft at the time but noticeable none the less.

I simply had words with myself and told myself that some of the feelings I was experiencing were vaguely familiar and to be careful.

I read or later thought I had read an offensive piece of correspondence apparently levelled at myself, a rejection, mind remained troubled throughout the night the main question being had I misinterpreted what I’d seen, why was it troubling me so much?
The thought over the subject provoked questions which in turn led me to again doubt my own actions.
Once again I had the feeling I had made a mistake, perhaps done something wrong..
Or possibly been misunderstood, again.

I do have a tendency to only say what I know to be true to myself and therefore any advice given can only come form restrictively personal experience.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be sat here relaxed smoking weed, listening to quiet sounds and writing one’s thoughts to disc.
Could be laid out snoring after having forced down a meal on top of several pints of ale.

Choices, we all have to make them.

I chose to brew and grow my own;
I had a more than heavy reliance on one or the other at times but seldom together.

When I became increasingly disenfch..Pissed off with the endless daily round of drinking I reverted to weed for company for a few years and still choose weed over alcohol any day.

Don’t let the bastards grind you down is one of the last things I read last night, before realising I was in danger of possibly travelling along roads best avoided.
I was intrigued by the ending carburundum and it triggered a part memory of coming across the word sometime in the past and it had made an impact upon me for some reason.
I remembered it by my thinking will never forget that, carburundum paper, grinding.
I forget the Latin now but was something nil carburundum.
Reading that phrase after having it translated flicked the switch and I realised I had to be strong enough to handle anything which may happen.

I try wine and lemonade, very pleasant.

I didn’t fear the worst I just wanted to be more prepared for it, if it was to become any stronger.
I had tried to rule out any possibility of it been a hallucination, but the presence of any degree of doubt in the equation and that possibility will always remain somewhere in the ballpark.
I haven’t taken my meds regularly now for eight months, refused to take one last night, preferring to opt for a good night’s sleep and recuperation.

I would have expected to wake up today exhausted after the nights brain activity.
Apparently when we retire with an anxious active mind the brain becomes affected by the over stimulation during what is supposed to be a time for it to recuperate, dream periods are extended, dreams are more lucid and the brain activity levels increase.

I woke up almost refreshed the activity had returned to normal and decisions had been reached during the night time deliberation, in short the problem was solved, ceased to exist and a plan of action had been formulated, all while asleep.

Perhaps I’d been wrong giving words of encouragement to people thinking about coming off their meds.
Hell the majority were only looking for a way to escape the dramatic influences of the medication.
To take back control of one’s life.
Hell I just told them it had been possible me for so far and I felt totally different since coming off the meds.
No more zombification, forced naps on afternoon, feeling of lifelessness, feeling weak and manipulated, controlled almost, placated certainly.

Taking life in short steps, that’s the way to do it, I almost got down the very last can of produce before going shopping, I was loathe to even go outside, not wanting to be in a crowd, among people, any people.
Going shopping forced me out and I soon forgot about that fear altogether.

True there is still company choices.
Often-simple choice between past acquaintances or faces new?
I had chosen to do away with my past completely and therefore opted for new faces, different environment.

I’ve heard of people afraid to go out because they are aware of people, often streets away talking about them, plotting to harm them perhaps.
Strangers with familiar voices and familiar faces on strangers.

The world becomes quite a frightening place re integration into a routine, any daily routine is awkward and often time restrictions are ignored.
But after a few days of not taking the tablets I failed to notice any marked effect was perhaps a couple of weeks before I realised one morning that I felt noticeable different, somehow more capable, alert and fresh minded.
I woke up today with the realisation that any action must be decided upon level of self enjoyment; i.e. would the contentment gained form doing an activity such as writing page after page be sufficient.
I had decided to delete blog and nearly did,
I had tried to write everyday about only what I knew which was daily life, no acceptable excuse would be considered for not doing something.

I know there’s a little Jeckyl and Hyde in us all, the trick must be to recognise the change and be able to control oneself when in either state.

Last night I felt in a state of flux not knowing if it would progress or return to solidity.
Probably the flux state cold be the scariest, after all once you progress you are usually not too aware of what is happening you are in the grips of the episode and at its’ mercy.
The confusing, grey ring of uncertainty and indecision surrounds the black hole of psychosis.
Don’t let them.

I remember when on the ward that some toys were brought in to provide us with endless hours of fun.
One was a kiddies piece of apparatus, the old bent wire and handset with loop which had to me taken from end to end without making a connection with the bent wire.
think you know what I mean. I set it up one day, showed to all how it should be done and then tried like hell to get one of the other inmates to have a go, not one, some were showed signs of fright at the very idea.
I had succeeded at traversing the length of the wire route but failed miserably to get even the faintest of sparks from the inmate who would sit all day listening to offers for cheap bathrooms on the local commercial ridden radio station.

Jesus I tried to pull some of those people out of their holes but man they were buried deep!
Lost the basic skills of living in a society so are kept apart.
Halfway down bottle of wine and still finding it o.k.
I close my eyes and take time out.