Today is a day for revelations�well, kind of anyway. I�ve been thinking a lot about myself and the weird things I do and wondering why I do them�my brain seems to want to annoy the hell out of me. For example (or�.as evidence�) this morning as I put on my coat I looked at the little tab on the end of my sleeve (as I always do�the tab is red, the coat is black�you can�t miss it) and noted the SK FK, for Skunk Funk, and in my head a jolly rendition of �Slam Dunk Da Funk� started and it occurred to me that this happens every time I put my coat on! I leave for work in a haze of funk (being slam dunked) my lunch starts in a similar manner and I�m musically hallucinating funk of the slam-dunked type all the way from the office to the train station.
WHY????
Why the hell is my brain torturing me with 5ive???
I�ve also developed a weird tic at work�when I�m adding addresses onto the system I type the city, press tab 3 times to get to the postcode box (very banal) and then I look down to check what the postcode is on the form and as I look up to begin typing I (subconsciously) tap my elbow twice on the desk. I have no idea why I do that but a couple of days ago I realised that I do it pretty much every time I�m adding an address. It�s like a little pause for thought, or something to do while my eyes make the journey from page to screen (much like a successful novel).
THE KNIGHTS WHO SAY��COME ALONG BERT!
I found out today that my Granddad has been moved from the hospital to a new nursing home. It�s a very long story (that is actually quite amusing and involves men in mirrors and strange cleaning ladies (who are actually my Aunts�) and senile dementia�so yes, erm, amusing!) but he was in a home and had to be moved to a secure-ish (they�re can leave if they want to (and have somewhere to go of course) and aren�t kept prisoner but the door to the unit has a keypad on it so the patients can�t just wander the hospital with their insanity) wing of a hospital. Now he�s a bit better and so they�ve moved him to another home, called The Shrubbery�which makes me want to shout We want�a Shrubbery! and things about split level effects and paths.
The thing with Granddad�s condition is that he can�t really make new memories and he doesn�t recognise people. He knows that he should know who we are and so often acts like nothing is wrong or makes a joke about him not remembering�a couple of weeks ago I was visiting him with my Dad and Dad was asking him if he knew who he was. Granddad was saying yes but he wouldn�t say a name, so when Dad pushed it more he said �Yes, You�m Charlie!� (accent = black country) as if he was pretending that he didn�t know�but he really didn�t. I was in a debate (in my head�with myself and my better judgement) whether I should get him anything for Christmas because in the hospital we could never be sure that the stuff we gave him would stay his�and that�s a really horrible thought too...Granddad alone in a hospital with nothing really to call his own except his clothes. Anyway, now I know he�s at this home I�m going out to buy him lots of goodies�he won�t know they�re from me but at least he�ll have some chocolate, biscuits and things to keep him warm.
I�ll miss seeing him at the hospital though�it was my first encounter with genuine crazy�I watched on in an amused sort of horror as an old lady turned up in the room and started talking to the (incredibly spaced out) guy who was sat at the same table as my Granddad�
Lady: Oh! There you are! What have you been doing? Looks like nothing to me�
Man: �
Lady: You were supposed to be helping me pack, we�re going on holiday tomorrow
Man: �
Lady: Come on, you�re supposed to be helping me, not the other way round! I need you, Bert (or something)
Man: �
*this continues for a while until lady starts trying to pull out-of-it guy (who is still out of it) out of his chair�.it�s at this point I start worrying about the bottle of piss that�s on the floor between his feet�he�s obviously attached to it in a very intimate way!*
Nurse: Joan! Put him down! Don�t you DARE try to pick him up
Joan (formerly known as Lady): *looks up (which ISN�T the direction the nurse is in) and looks all dreamy and happy�muttering in a low voice* Oh! Yes�..I think�.yes!
Nurse: Come here Joan!
Joan: *looks in the right direction and stumbles off*
*conversation ensues between Nurses and Joan�Joan returns to �Bert�*
Joan: They�re trying to tell me you�re not my husband!
Man: �
Joan: So I told �em! As if I wouldn�t know my own husband! Now, come on we�ve got to get this packing done�
And there was the time that this conversation occurred... (my dad and a patient by the way�)
Dad: *on sight of a man sat with my Granddad and not wishing to be impolite, even to the crazies* Hello! Are you alright?
Man: Of course I�m bloody not! Other wise I wouldn�t be HERE would I???
But�situations like that always make me question sanity and insanity in so much as, we see what these �crazy� people do/say/think and we say (or think) Wow! That is MAD! I don�t see the person that he/she is talking to so therefore I must be sane and he/she must be cray-zeeee. My problem with this is�.what if they�re seeing the truth and we�re the ones who are mad/contained in a world where we can�t see the truth??? It�s a very matrix type feeling in so much that the people we deem as crazy can�t see the fabrication that the rest of us can see�
�if there are no more entries after this you shall know that the men in white coats have come to collect me�either because I am mad or because I have revealed their secret!
THE BIG MAN IS BACK
�apparently, this morning there was a knock at the front door and, on peeping through the spy hole, Matt saw a (and I quote) ��big beardy guy�� who turned out to be Big Tim, home for Christmas! Yay for Christmas!
Him and I have never entirely seen eye to eye, we both like to be right and feel the need to ARGUE! However, when we do get on (which we do most of the time�when not debating) we have a good laugh and so I�m looking forward to possibly watching some cheesy horror with him and Matt tonight and getting well and truly stoned out of my BOX! (that�s my head box�and not anywhere else that might be named �box��for I am NEVER to stoned to be out of that�occasionally I�m so stoned I want something IN it�okay, this is getting beyond the realms of much to graphic�.I�m shutting up about it)
CRAZY FILMS AND A BRAIN LIKE A GREY VOID!!! YAHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!
Commissioned from:
Last Lemon Productions!
