They say catastrophes come in threes. Today, the cistern went berserk and flooded the bathroom, the printer refused to print text (although images were fine), and the portable heater that was meant to dry out the bathroom took a stroke. Also, The Care Bears Movie, Care Bears Movie II: A New Generation and The Care Bears Adventure in Wonderland.
Continue reading The Power Of Three
Day 7 without getting beaten up for being some sort of transatlantic nonce. I’m going to have to stop this count. It feels like I’m tempting fate, and, what’s more, we’re going to Glasgow tonight.
Ooh. This is weird. I’m writing today’s post from my dad’s dinner table in Edinburgh. Can I still be nakedly confessional?
Continue reading Apoplexy On Tour 2013
Hello, friends. I must apologize for the snafu at the Big 5-0 party on Monday. How can you have a post entitled “Unhappy Birthday” — in late May, no less — and not link to this? A lovely page, from noting that offering his Mozness happy returns is less appropriate than observing that marking the occasion means “he still hasn’t met the right person to die in a fiery bus crash beside.” (Even if a preposition is a word you don’t end a sentence with.) It’s even got cats in it, for goodness sake. Take that search engine optimizer! And, the pictures of the Motorcycle Au Pair Boy are mostly from (or before, actually) his prime.
Continue reading Antidepressant
First, good luck to the apoplectics who are using this week to write a poultry-based musical/learn how to use a digital camera manually/research wood chips. [If you don’t know a lot about wood chips, click through to the link in Monday’s comments. It’s interesting stuff.] Please return to your projects after you finish with this….
I’ve been tweeting about earworms recently. I tend to find that the random songs stuck in my head on any given morning tend to be from my childhood.
This morning’s earworm: How Deep Is Your Love (Bee Gees version). #multifaceted
— Ricky Brown (@ricky_ballboy) May 2, 2013
Yesterday morning’s earworm: The Wild Rover (Pogues & Dubliners version).
— Ricky Brown (@ricky_ballboy) May 2, 2013 Continue reading Punk. Rock. Stroke. Repeat.
First, a couple of updates….
OK. now, let’s press on… To The End. Continue reading To The End
Writing a blog sucks. (And you thought reading it was bad.) On Friday, between making my way to OT, PT and neuro/psychotherapy, I pre-banked today’s post. It was about how much I’ve enjoyed writing apoplectic.me and how much it’s meant to me over the past five months or so.
So, what happened? As former British Prime Minister Harold Wilson would say:
Continue reading AWEI: Apoplectic.me Will Eat Itself
After a couple of meh episodes, Doctor Who was enjoyable this week. Hide was an intriguing watch, evoking the atmosphere of both Hinchcliffe and Holmes-style gothic horror and Bidmeadian hard sci-fi. What’s more, it stars Dougray Scott as a man with a pleasant burr, a pair of Willoughbys, a duffle coat and an attraction to a woman who saved his life. (Possibly metaphorically, but that works, too.) Prime blog fodder, no?
Well, maybe not. I was recently told by someone with little knowledge of the statistics behind hemorrhagic strokes, and none of the workings of the Hunt Hess Scale, that I should stop over-dramatizing what happened to me in October of last year and get on with my life. So, no heroic narrative this week. And no allusions to epic romance.
It’s been a pretty good couple of weeks for TBI humour. Have you ever had an ailment, and then found everyone seems to be talking about their experiences with it? And it’s not because there’s been a sudden epidemic. It’s just because you’re more attuned. Maybe it’s just been a bit like that. Still, I don’t remember TBIs being a staple of mainstream comedy before my hemorrhage. Maybe it’s the new thing. Or, maybe my memory’s not what it once was…. [With perfect comedy timing, I was reminded of Cartman’s fall from a cow, and belief he was a Vietnamese streetwalker, in the South Park episode Cow Days, shortly after finishing this post.]
After last week’s Thatcherite hagiography (sic), we’re staying in the vein of Stroke Bloke’s favourite under-appreciated decade a little longer, with gritty British cinema and thoughts regarding the treatment and merits of benefit applicants. Oh, and a little HMHB.
Continue reading Back In The DHSS