Archive for March, 2009


24 March, 2009

For the uninitiated, this is a condition of the functional brain, frustrated by long periods of forced rest due to parkinsonism, becomes overly liberated as mobility returns.

With this comes a moreish joy in the sensation of motion which then floods the whole system with an insatiable, adrenalin fueled imperative for maximum velocity.


Oh dear! Dear Reader…

22 March, 2009

This is the point at which it all gets really boring, tres droll, for you i think.

The subtext to all of the above, or below depending where you reside, is the ridiculously slow onset of some outlandish form of parkinsonism.

In the early days of this blog, not saved for the sake of the SAAS, i was hopeful of finding work in an ambulance service somewhere and i had a young family about me who i thought would be a permanent part of my life. The few years so sparsely recorded here have been my time of coming to terms, making accommodations, as Sacks would put it, with an advancing disability which is now bringing to an end my ability to work or travel.

My dreams of repeating Roger Shawyers electromagnetic drive experiment is still alive despite all apparent absurdity. Stranger things very rarely happen at sea but…

So beneath this studiously cheerful handful of strange memories lies the last ‘Hurragh!’ of one completely spent poet now doubled with anxiety and pain, barely in control of his own flailing limbs.

The beta blockers are proving to be a blessing, bringing the shakes to a tolerable level. The downside is that in easing the shakes the drug has revealed how still i am underneath. Meditation overcomes me against my will. The world has become sticky to me so that i am caught amongst an action of domesticity but not clearly enough located in its progression to be able to complete it.

Can still ride the scooter well enough to provision my temporary home in the forest but the truth is that most of my mobility is now a process of expensively controlled festination.The fragility of my independence presses on me as it does with people a generation older than me.

Played a bit part in a short film once, about an old man unable to communicate with the world. He wakes to find himself back home sitting on the veranda next to his wife.

My vision is clouding now, to survive my own deranged neurology i must shrink my dreams to the feasible, tether my expectations to the radius of my mobility, and above all i must forgive the world for not having time for me, it is not their fault.

So apologies dear reader, thanking you for your encouragement but giving you warning that it will probably be a downhill run from here. The frustration of loosing my abilities will make me bitter and cynical, it already has, so there being no positive message any more this blog should have died a natural death, but no, it endures because no matter how poor or devoid of style it is, it does have the slapstick moments of watching a man come apart at the seams, slowly, horribly turning from a handsome ambitious youth into a dribbling old derelict.

Hope i have succeeded in making you all feel at least a little better about your own lives but imploring you for the sake of your own sanity to now and forever STOP READING THIS BLOG….

by Guillane Apollinare

12 March, 2009

(Original en Francais)

come to the edge

no, we will fall


come to the edge

no, we will fall


they came to the edge

he pushed them-

and they flew…

Beta Blockers

12 March, 2009

And in the height of adoration

my lover gave to me

the sad strength required

to accommodate the loss

of the very sexuality

we were celebrating

A birthday card a year later

sweet confirmation

of a shared memory

of a mutual front

which made me permanently whole

Arm in arm, the crowds

making way for us

through the english spring

in silent recognition

of our right

because finding love

relives the lifelong search for it

should it stay or should it go

the worry is no more

Green Tree Frog Bathroom Invasion

3 March, 2009

“It isn’t easy being green” said Kirmit the frog, i am starting to appreciate how he felt. What does a greenish bloke do when his bathroom is full of frogs; climbing the walls, bathing in the water bucket, falling on his head as he comes in the door and, god forbid, making love in the toilet?

If you try to pick them up you get covered in their slimy toxic defense goo, not toxic to us but unpleasant anyhow. If you don’t fish them out of the loo before, well some things are just unthinkable are they not. Crickets in the drinking water can be fished out, spider webs across the driveway with ten gram spiders hanging in them, can be avoided if you are quick enough, crows on the roof, magpies in the morning, whatever but i will not take a dump on a frog no matter how long it takes to evict them from their little lagoon of love…

Bye the bye, beta blockers are having the multiple benefit of reducing BP and tremors, and sudden grumpiness, i wish i had been introduced to them before. Here’s hoping you are enjoying life too, my dear and patient reader. Here is a wish of vigor in your dealings.