Apoplectic Me

Here is the news…

Knock-knock. Who's there? Ivor Liddle
“Everything is fine. Return to your homes.”

[Is this more FAKE NEWS?!?! Read on to find out where Stroke Bloke’s going with this…]

Of course it’s Fake News. Apoplectic Me is nothing if not Of The Zeitgeist.

And you don’t get much more Zeitgeisty than apoplexy. This is the trigger for the spike in curiosity about apoplexy:

Bass! How low can you go?
How low can you go? The President speaks.

It makes sense, I suppose, that apoplexy – unconsciousness or incapacity resulting from a cerebral haemorrhage or stroke – has entered the language as a word describing Trumpian rage. I’ve written previously about the emotional lability arising from my haemorrhage stroke. Uncontrollable rage is certainly a common symptom, whether it arises from scrambled connections, the grieving for what is lost, or some combination of these and other factors.

As time passed, and I practiced meditation and rearranged my priorities, the apoplexy – extreme anger – faded.

East 17? Is that you again?
That’s okay. Things are going to be okay.

But just like a lottery winner, my background level of anger slowly returned to something around its baseline – somewhere between a lottery winner and a paraplegic and quadriplegic –  as time passed. But then if you’re a long-suffering reader of the blog, you probably noticed that already.

Most mornings since last Tuesday, though, I’ve tended to learn six apoplexy-inducing things before breakfast.

Be grateful it's not a motivational poster
It was the Queen who said it, you blithering idiot. QED.

What does one even do with that? With mass shooters, with wilfully ignorant Foreign Secretaries, with tax avoiders, with fascists jailing elected politicians, with buccaneering Brexiteers, with Auntie Beeb?

Well, withdraw into art, obviously.

And leave the irony of the context of that remark well alone.

So in the past few days I’ve been to

  • Edinburgh’s beautiful Central Library to hear a librarian from the National Library of Ireland talk about 140 years of the Library with particular reference to its relationships with W.B. Yeats and Seamus Heaney. The presentation was organised by Edinburgh City Libraries in association with the Consulate of Ireland in Edinburgh. That’s the Consulate of Ireland, a small to medium-sized independent Celtic country in the North Atlantic.
  • The beautiful Scottish Poetry Library to hear a discussion of the work of the war poet Wilfred Owen, and how it developed during his time in Edinburgh as a patient of the Craiglockhart War Hospital for Officers alongside Siegfried Sassoon suffering from shell shock 100 years ago.

Ayyyy!

Apparently, 1917 was pretty rough, too.

  • Catholic Action playing a storming set at Sneaky Pete’s on the Cowgate. At least that was unreservedly joyous.

So all in all, I guess I’m doing well.

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