Category Archives: Mental Health

A Ray of Sunshine

It has never been hard to tell the difference between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine, PG Wodehouse once wrote. And today, as the Scottish Parliament debates the merits of approaching Westminster regarding another Independence referendum and just under half of the MSPs grumble about the Scottish Government manufacturing grievances, maybe it’s time to change the stereotype?

"Is it no, aye?"
(A) A Scotsman, (B) a ray of sunshine, (C) the mighty Kingsley, or (D) all of the above?

[For more sugar, spice, and nice things, check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter]

Continue reading A Ray of Sunshine

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Dark Web

The other day, apropos of something, Prof Paul asked Mouthsounds Steph and I

How well 1-10 do you guys know Dark Side of the Moon? I’m about 12.

That's not a moon – that's a space station
Er, it’s this one, right?

[Read on – it’s not about conflict, greed, the passage of time, and mental illness. Promise!] Continue reading Dark Web

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The Elephant’s Nelly

Last week’s post was described by The Prof as a perfect distillation of an apoplectic.me post – presumably in the hope that I would JUST STOP ALREADY!!! Well, I won’t. Because I distilled it even further, and it was presented on Broadcasting Giant Eddie Mair‘s Radio 4 PM show on 5th August.

Apparently super-strong cannabis was more important. Which is fair enough.
I come in at around 46m 09s

[Can’t stop, won’t stop? Get more apoplexy straight to your inbox here.] Continue reading The Elephant’s Nelly

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My Name is Joe – Pt. 1

A search of apoplectic.me for the word “memory” comes up with 50 hits – almost a quarter of the posts on the blog. Hardly surprising, when one thinks that in the weeks following The Event, I couldn’t remember my age, where I was, who the person in the chair next to my hospital bed was, or whether or not I was the Vice President of the United States.

Needs to stay clear of D.C. till some shit blows over.
“I’m in Mexico, and if anyone asks, my name is Ricky Monahan Brown. If you catch my drift.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eventually, memories come back. Even now, Beth notices that my memories of thirty or more years ago seem to be more readily accessible than those from this week. Maybe you find the same thing. Continue reading My Name is Joe – Pt. 1

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Something Changed

Hi.

If you’ve been here before, you may have noticed that Mrs Stroke Bloke recently made me Mr Mrs Stroke Bloke. (You’ve made that “gag” before – Ed.)

Is that much testosterone in a marriage healthy? Yes, apparently. (Photo credit: @chrisdonia)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now we’ve been married for as long as the three-and-a-half weeks I was in Brooklyn’s Methodist Hospital before my transfer to the Rusk Institute, I thought it might be time to scribble down some thoughts about what just happened – figure out what it was all about….

[Interact some more with Mr Mrs Stroke Bloke and read the Apoplexy Tiny Letter here.] Continue reading Something Changed

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Aye, Robot

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about whether a computer could write a successful musical.

I’m pleased to report that the conclusion of Ivan Hewett’s Telegraph article and Cat Gale’s Sky Arts documentary seems to be “Yes, a computer can write a successful musical.” And I’m even more happy to relate that the answer is also “No, a computer can’t write a successful musical.”

There’s a million things I haven’t done / But just you wait…

Continue reading Aye, Robot

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Never As Tired As When I’m Waking Up

This weekend, Longsufferinggirlfriendoftheblogbeth and I staged a wee karaoke party to celebrate, among other things, the first anniversary of my fortieth birthday.

“Carry the one, simplify for x…. Carrot! Is it carrot?!”

Hat tip to @Pab_Roberts for drawing my attention to the lovely fact that the word karaoke is a  bimoraic clipped compound of the Japanese kara 空 “empty” and ōkesutora オーケストラ “orchestra”. We had great fun, and were glad that, that night, the clocks went back in Edinburgh (and the rest of Scotland and the other countries that comprise the islands known as Britain, and Ireland, too – Ed.).

This brought my attention to the issue of sleep and fatigue, which I’m surprised to find has rarely been discussed on the blog…. Continue reading Never As Tired As When I’m Waking Up

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Brain of Mutilation

I’m back in uni for the second semester (well, trimester) of the 2014-15 academic year.

Well, there’s an opening line to strike excitement into the hearts of men. Didn’t they say in first semester to start a flash piece strongly? Yep. So, if you’re looking for that sort of thing, please think about checking out my piece in the first issue of the new international journal of English-language poetry and short fiction, Brain of Forgetting.

I shouldn’t have been able to see Glen Coe from Brooklyn. It’s thirty-two hundred miles. Yet the last thing I saw was a cairn.

Kurt sez, “This is how you do it: ‘All this happened, more or less.'”

You can pick up a free digital edition of Brain of Forgetting #1: Stones here. It’s a good-looking, 106-page book that’s also available in hard copy. Continue reading Brain of Mutilation

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The Kübler-Ross Model

Well. We have to talk about the be-kilted elephant in the room, slumped in the corner, clasping a sticky bottle of Buckfast to his chest.

Things that aren’t Scottish, #94

Longsufferinggirlfriendoftheblogbeth tells me that referendum questions in the States are usually comprised of statutory legalese. Below that, they’re explained in less comprehensible terms for the voter. But the choice on Scotland’s #indyref ballot paper was stark.

[Sign up for apoplectic.me alerts and extra personal reflections here.] Continue reading The Kübler-Ross Model

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