Whoever re-activated my account for me free of charge and wishes to remain anonymous.. thanks. Awfully decent of you. I choose not to be at all freaked out by an anonymous gift of free internet nudies.

Ta, mystery person.

Tra-la-la
La-la-la-la
Tra-la-la
La-la-la-la

Toodlepipsky.

I'm feeling okay today. I like feeling okay. It's much better than the other thing.

Keep getting these mysterious bruises, huge ones, looks like I've been hit with a lead pipe or something. On my thigh, on my hip, on my side. A mystery. The doctor wants me to have a blood test, see if anything weird shows up. I'll do that on Monday, the weekend shouldn't be for hospitals.

Think I might go to Lush and get some smellies. Luxuriate in clouds of bubbles for a while and listen to The Smiths.

Pretty shitty Christmas...

Got a phonecall last Friday (the 22nd) saying my Nan had collapsed and was in hospital. Didn't know whether to be terribly worried until I got another phonecall the next morning (Saturday the 23rd) saying "You'd better come down here.." in that ominous way people sometimes talk on phones when they think someone is going to die soon.

Operating on no sleep, unshowered and hungry, I threw a few useless things into a bag and was on my way to Somerset (200 miles away) ten minutes after hanging up the phone.

I got back late yesterday. Nan is still in hospital and is very frail and, worse, mostly psychotic. The doctors don't really know what happened, could've been a stroke or a series of small ones, could've been something else entirely. But where once she was my Nan, now she is a crazy old lady who bites nurses, hides toothbrushes up her sleeves to fight off the "actors" with, tries to peel people's hands like bananas.. etc.

My Mum, cousin and aunt are still down there visiting her twice a day in the coronary care unit. I came back home to take care of the cats and because my brothers spent Christmas all by themselves.

Waiting for someone to die is about the least fun thing in the world. Second only perhaps to watching people you love suffer and deteriorate.. then get a little bit better, then deteriorate and suffer some more.

Bah humbug?

Come down to Hyde Park on Sunday July 30th and do the 2006 WALK FOR LIFE with me! (And a few thousand others..)

http://www.walkforlife.co.uk/

It's all for Crusaid.

http://www.crusaid.org.uk/

OR.. if walking is not your thing.. sponsor me by clicking HERE. As much or as little as you like. My overly ambitious fundraising target this year is £500.

I'm feeling better. Had a fab chat with a pal earlier. Think I might re-do my hair tomorrow. Needs changing.

Indigo.. Indigoing.. Indigone.

Don't know what happened last night.. something went wrong in my brain. Today was just a mess. Very difficult to get through. I could barely get myself out to the doctors, sitting the waiting room was torture, I cried when I got into her office (I didn't want to, I tried not to.. but I couldn't stop it.) I told her about the bad night, told her about the worse morning. Reluctantly, after a minute of crying, I mentioned how an appealing and appalling thought of hanging myself had rushed through my brain almost as soon as I woke up... (I've managed to get this far without being officially sectioned. I don't always like to tell the doctors these kinds of details.)

I'd been in a really buzzy hyper good mood for the past few days. I don't know what happened. Maybe it was the humidity that did it. Maybe it was the blood loss (I went along and graciously donated a pint on Monday evening), maybe it was the junk food I ate, maybe the alcohol I drank last Thursday, maybe I caught something when I was out, maybe I got dehydrated, maybe it was just bound to happen again at some point. I don't know. Wish it hadn't though...

Doctor upped my doasage of the Risperdal. Don't know if that'll do any good (probably not since.. I'm not that fond of actually taking it.) I've just been trying to breathe deeply, drink water, sleep a bit, glance through some self-help books, do all the small things that are supposed to make you healthy and happy. Eat organic bananas, etc. I still feel on-edge. My neck kind of hurts. It doesn't feel like it's "passed" yet.

I hate this. I hate it when whatever this is happens. Wish it would just go away, leave me alone.

Fishbone were pretty fucking great at the Garage on Thursday night. Angelo Moore is one sexy sweaty saxophone-playing bastard. Mmm..

The French support band, Wolfunkind, were pretty fun too. They had a song about Starsky & Hutch being gay lovers that I appreciated.

I got crushed and smushed and sweated on and rocked and elbowed and kicked in the head. I've only just got my hearing back in my right ear. It was great.

What a fucking travesty that the Red Hot Chili Peppers are playing five nights sold out at Earl's Court while Fishbone are still playing one-offs every few years at 250-capacity shitholes like the Garage. No justice or sense at all in the universe. Angelo should be a legend.

Angelo IS a legend.

I've GOT to stop watching "Big Brother". Somebody needs to shoot me. I've stayed up late just to watch it almost every day this week. There should be a rehab for sensible people who've been sucked into this hole of a show. Pete (the lovely weird guy with Tourettes, AKA "my new wank fantasy boy") is so hard to tear myself away from. I luff his tics and his manic giggling and his little hat and his velvet shirts. I wish he'd give them all the finger and walk out so I could go back to happily not giving a fuck about this stupid shitty godawful prgramme...

London is so fabulous in this anti-goth sunny summer weather. I want to lounge around in parks all day doing obnoxious things...........

The Dresden Dolls show on Friday night at the Astoria was oh. so. FAB.

I think I must've caught something unpleasant whilst there, though. I've felt like shit ever since I got home.

Fucking banks. Fucking money. Fucking fucks.

Ha. Last night was mildly debauched. Fun fun fun.

Strawberry daiquiris.. mmm...