Category Archives: Poetry

Great Expectations

Mrs Stroke Bloke and I were just talking about how over five years have passed since my stroke. A lot of things have changed since the day before the stroke. Since the day after the stroke. Since the day I was released from the Rusk Institute. And so on.

The rather hoary old saw I’m ripping here is, time flies…

Flies time, it does.
A Jedi training ball alarm clock, apparently – Tempus fugit? Fuggit!

[Just can’t get enough? Check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter.] Continue reading Great Expectations

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The Stroke Bloke Shake

In 2006, a psychologist at Cardiff University identified today as the most depressing day of the year. Cliff Arnall suggested that this was due to the confluence of a number of factors, including debts from Christmas overspending, the abandoning of New Year’s resolutions, and low levels of motivation.

So if you were already been super-depressed about having to go through Blue Monday on 15 January, now you must feel really bad.

Barney was mistaken, apparently
I’m quite sure that you’ll tell me / Just how I should feel today

[Cheer yourself up – check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter] Continue reading The Stroke Bloke Shake

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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…] Continue reading Apoplectic Me

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Now We Are Five

This past weekend, I celebrated my Fifth Strokiversary (1, 2, 3, 4). Which I guess means Stroke Bloke is five.

He's aff his heid on honey again
*FIVE*, you dozy ursine prat!

A fair amount of water has passed under the bridge in five years. Let’s reflect, shall we?

[For more personal reflections, join me at the Apoplexy Tiny Letter.] Continue reading Now We Are Five

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The Partisan

Let’s just ignore the elephant in the room for a moment, shall we? Yes, for someone who has the ability to speak out against racism and misogyny and homophobia (dons Stroke Bloke hat – or ablism)  to choose to stay silent on these matters is the same as condoning them. So let’s be clear – I’m against these things here, in my life, and in my art.

Does that make me a phobophobe?

Help Ricky figure his shit out in the Apoplexy Tiny Letter. Continue reading The Partisan

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Highlander

Mrs Stroke Bloke and I spent this past weekend in the Highlands. More precisely, we were visiting family in Strontian, on the banks of Loch Sunart. One of my cousins asked if I would be writing about our trip in the blog this week. And since she took me to see David Bowie’s Sound and Vision tour stop in Ingliston in 1990, I could hardly say “No.”

“Scotland, stay with us. I mean, do you know how much this coat cost?!”

But first, please note that on Monday, 4 April, I’ll be presenting Nerd Bait’s latest (and maddest) concept EP, The Gospel of Unicerosaurus, as part of Illicit Ink’s show at the Edinburgh International Science Festival!!!

Continue reading Highlander

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The State of Origins, Pt. 2

A blog established in the aftermath of a catastrophic stroke necessarily dwells on issues of personal identity. There have certainly been plenty of those sorts of posts over the past three-and-a-bit years.

Don’t worry, Dude. I’m going somewhere else with this

But last week found me thinking about the origin stories and “values” of various countries. The French and the Americans have theirs, of course. Forged in, respectively, the white hot heat of revolution and, er, revolution. Eras that demanded flags and symbols and identities around which to rally. Their own spasm-ing bouts of apoplexy, if you will.

So, where does that leave national constructs closer to home?

[Get apoplectic.me’s more whimsical and personal cousin here.] Continue reading The State of Origins, Pt. 2

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Lovelace

In the wake of last week’s post about Post-Capitalism and cyberpunk (and sure, strokes) BBC Radio 4 embarked on its Digital Week. It seemed Britain’s talk station was forever teetering on the edge of a discussion about what the next generation of roboticisation would mean for us humans. But they never quite got there while I was listening. A bit like today’s news stories.

AH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!

A good job, too. Because I don’t know about you, Dear Reader, but I’m not up to another socio-economic post today. However, Digital Week did throw up some gems….

[As always, you can catch the lighter flip-side of apoplectic.me in the apoplexy Tiny Letter here.]

Continue reading Lovelace

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Moon Hop

Phew! What a week!

16 April was the deadline for turning in my Spring semester portfolio. And of course Illicit Ink’s Apollo 21, co-starring Stroke Bloke, premièred the prior night at Edinburgh’s Royal Observatory on Blackford Hill. I’d like to think that Apollo 21 wouldn’t have been possible in its final, polished form without – in addition to great performances and writing by the whole team – the contributions of my super-talented Nerd Bait bandmates Steph the Brain and Professor Paul, who soundtracked the whole thing.

When I say it’s difficult to listen to this without crying, that’s a good thing. But don’t just take my word for it – thanks to 1 Proton 1 Electron for this lovely review.

[You can check out the rest of the soundtrack on Nerd Bait’s Soundcloud page.]

Continue reading Moon Hop

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Jacob’s Ladder

I’m still a wee bit of an American Stroke Bloke. In kind of the same way Martha Stewart is Scottish by sex.

She said it! Not me! To Craigie!

And yes, it’s still weird when the cheese triangles in Subway are “cheddar” and not “American”. And I still say and think “toMAYto”. But on the other hand, I was doing a crossword the other day, and got the following clue….

[Sign up for apoplectic.me alerts here. That’s where the revolutionary thinking is.]

Continue reading Jacob’s Ladder

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